<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>parent_1 by markwatneyandensemble</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131704">parent_1</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/markwatneyandensemble/pseuds/markwatneyandensemble'>markwatneyandensemble</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:55:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24131704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/markwatneyandensemble/pseuds/markwatneyandensemble</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s 1996, Mulder’s been off the X-Files for three years, and not speaking to Scully. They’ve almost moved on with their lives. Almost.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>310</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>Scully's hands were shaking as she prepared the food. </p></div><div class=""><p>It was a big day. A big lunch. She carefully squeezed lemons for lemonade, prepped her mother’s favorite sandwiches and soups, and when the knock came to to the door she was as prepared as she would ever be. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Dana,” Maggie smiled, hugging her daughter. “What’s all this?” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Oh, it’s lunch.” </p></div><div class=""><p>Maggie looked at her curiously. “It’s really fancy, I thought this was just an informal thing.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She shrugged. “I just felt like doing something special. And while I have you here, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Oh, I have something as well-“ </p></div><div class=""><p>“Mom,” she said, heart racing in her chest. </p></div><div class=""><p>“You’ll never guess who I ran into at the store the other day-“ </p></div><div class=""><p>“MOM.” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Alright, you go first.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded receipt. “I’ll just leave this here." </p></div><div class=""><p>Scully looked down, wondering if her hands were visibly shaking or was that just her mind? She gestured to Maggie to take her seat, and sat down across from her. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Dana? Is everything alright?” </p></div><div class=""><p>She took a deep breath, and smiled. “Yes. I just wanted to tell you… I’ve decided I want to pursue in vitro fertilization.” </p></div><div class=""><p>It had been years since she’d seen an expression on her mother’s face that she couldn’t read. Record broken. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Mom?” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Well, I’m surprised.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She nodded slowly. “I know it’s big news. But it’s something I wanted for a while, and things are good at work with Murphy. I even talked to Skinner, and he said I could reduce my caseload if needed. It’s just the right time.” </p></div><div class=""><p>Maggie remained still, her mouth a thin line. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Look, I get it’s not conventional, but it’s what I want. I have a consultation next week, and hopefully can begin treatments soon after. I’m only mentioning it because you deserved to know. Not because I want your permission.”</p></div><div class=""><p>They sat in silence. The food was forgotten on the counter. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Can you say something?” </p></div><div class=""><p>Maggie opened, and closed her mouth. “I’m just surprised.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She rose, and began to leave. “Call him.” She patted the receipt, and left. </p></div><div class=""><p>Scully fell back against her chair in a fit of anger. Maggie had always had a very clear idea of what her life should look like. Picket fence. Two to three grandkids and a golden retriever. And most importantly, a husband to do it all with. </p></div><div class=""><p>She nearly crumpled and threw away that receipt, knowing it was likely another respectable man from church who’d take her on two dates, talk her ears off about lawn irrigation and his new office temp, and then never call again. </p></div><div class=""><p>But then she saw it. </p></div><div class=""><p>“SNFLWR SDS _ _ _ _ $3.99” </p></div><div class=""><p>Curious, she unfurled the full receipt.   </p></div><div class=""><p>His grocery list was long, among it he'd bought a box of Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies, sunflower seeds, a ring pop, and large bag of black coffee beans. For a moment, she laughed at his eclectic diet, without needing to confirm who this mystery man was, even after three years. But she felt her heart sink, seeing how much more he was buying than a single person could eat. </p></div><div class=""><p>Throat tight, she flipped it over. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Mulder- 555-3268.” </p></div><div class=""><p>Nothing else. No little note. No “I’d love to hear from you.” He hadn’t even addressed it to her. </p></div><div class=""><p>His old number had been disconnected since he left the Bureau. She hadn’t changed once, either her phone or address. In her head, she could see the exact order of events. Mulder had been cornered by her mother, her mother overshared. He felt pity, put his number on the back of a receipt, that could easily be forgotten at the bottom of her purse. And that was it. </p></div><div class=""><p>A call interrupted her train of angry thoughts. The clinic calling to confirm her appointment for Wednesday. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Will anyone be joining you?” </p></div><div class=""><p>Her jaw clenched so tight she could barely manage a “no”. </p></div><div class=""><p>His phone number got lost at the bottom of her junk drawer. </p></div></div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It had been a long meeting, to rival his long day at the office. His eyes were sinking as he raced from the building, dialing Jill from his cell as he started the engine. Two hours after he said he’d be home, and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The drive home was usually exclusively littered with thoughts about Scully. What she was doing, why she hadn’t called. He should have asked Maggie for her number, but he’d figured after three years, it was better that she initiated the contact. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But that night, he could think of nothing more than his lateness. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He drove home ten over the speed limit, jumping his building’s fence and rushing upstairs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jill sat on the couch, glaring at him over her glasses when he burst through the door. “You’re late.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know, I’m sorry. But I did call this time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I already told you, I’m happy to stay later. But it isn’t really fair to <em>someone</em> who just learned to tell time off the stove clock.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He groaned. “I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Jill rolled her eyes, and stood, packing up her books. “You remember I’m going on that trip next week, so I won’t be here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, thanks for letting me know, I figured it out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiled, and took the wad of cash from him. “Have a good night.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You too. Thank you again. And I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She opened the door, mumbling something about it being fine. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know how to mention this… Some woman called about an hour ago while I was cleaning up. She was drunk or something and didn’t make much sense, but she left a message, and Emily heard it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, he was really confused, but he nodded. “Thanks for letting me know. It was probably a wrong number or something.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His babysitter raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Emily must’ve worn her out. Normally, he’d get an earful. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shut the door behind her, and shrugged off his coat. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The light was on at the end of the hall, and he anxiously eased the door open. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Boy, that kid could glare. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Look, honey, I know I’m late, but I told you it was a big board meeting…” Logic was not going to work on her, and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry, Em.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said you weren’t gonna leave me when it’s dark,” she said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know. And I won’t let that happen again.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pursed her lips, and gave him the same disbelieving look he’d spent the last few years imagining. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, how’s this for a deal: next week? I’m gonna pick you up from pre-school every day, not Jill. And tomorrow’s Saturday, so we can do something fun.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He grinned at how fast her mood had shifted. Then again, a three year old is easier to please than a grown-up, medical doctor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really. Now, did Jill read you a story already or should I?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She had her guilty face on, and lied: “Nope, she didn’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He raised an eyebrow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She did. But I want you to read one.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her blue eyes grew bigger with every second he pondered her request. “Okay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled a book off the shelf, and let her crawl into his lap. “Alright, so this is the story of the Loch Ness Monster.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It looks like a dinosaur,” she said, touching the picture. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, well it’s not, it’s a mythical creature.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No-o-o,” she giggled. “It’s a dinosaur. Or a big fish!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swiveled around in his lap, eyes lacking any trace of exhaustion. He smiled, and held her tighter. “Fine. It’s a dinosaur. But the thing is, no one’s seen it for a long time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is it missing?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He yawned. “Yeah, sort of.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like my mom and dad?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t know how to respond. It had been a month, and nothing had surfaced. He’d hoped, against all basic training, that he’d gotten past all the questions. But then again, questioning about her parents, was far better than questioning about the message Jill mentioned. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eventually, he just started reading, in a soft, low voice, avoiding her comment completely. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She fell asleep, drooling on his sweater, and he tucked her in, and closed the door behind him. There was a message he needed to listen to. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Muller?” it screeched. “I’ss me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The words he’d missed for three long years. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, he wanted to pause the message, let the feelings that surfaced run their course. But he took a deep breath, and let the message continue to play. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He repeated it a dozen times that night, and fell asleep in his work clothes, heart aching, the answering machine right next to him. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Scully called her mother later that week, hoping she’d thought it over and could at least muster some support. She was wrong. So wrong, she couldn’t believe she’d ever hoped to be right. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I would have thought you would be happy at the possibility of a grandchild.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Maggie’s tone seeped through the handset. “This is not how you start a family, Dana.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She gritted her teeth, and nearly crushed the plastic between her fingers. “However I want to start one will be how I start one. You do not get input in this.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I’m not giving you input. I’m telling you that this is not how you should do this. Children need both parents, and you deserve to have a support system. They need to feel safe, and not have mothers who behave so irrationally.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her throat felt sore, and words were lost. Acting in anger, perhaps in fear, she didn’t respond. She clicked the phone off, and set it back on its hook. Her hands shook. Her chest was tight. It felt like she hadn’t breathed in minutes. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>There was a phone number calling to her at the bottom of her junk drawer. She didn’t find it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Wednesday came and went, passing against all signs that it wouldn’t. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Maggie called her that evening, and she was sure to not let her emotions show in her voice. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Did it go well?” she asked, her tone unsupportive, but high-road adjacent. Out of interest, not care. Like she was merely awaiting the press-release for her social circle. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You don’t have to worry about it,” she said, her voice fighting her. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her mother sighed into the phone. “You don’t have to be dramatic about it. Just because I don’t approve doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear the news.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Dana hung her head, hot racing down her face, and she silently gasped for air. “I just meant… you don’t have to worry about it.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She slammed the phone down, and pulled it off its hook. The world wouldn’t end if she couldn’t be reached tonight. Besides, there was no one to call her after midnight anyway. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily-not-Emmy stole his heart from the get-go, the way the most memorable patients did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother had found him in the yellow pages, the way he’d always hoped Scully might, should she ever forgive him. She called him, asking for a slot on the phone and not taking no for an answer. The truth was, he wasn’t looking to take any more patients, but Nora begged him. Relentlessly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve seen your work,” she told him. “I just… I just want the best for my daughter. Her father and I are not on good terms, and I’m worried that it’s affecting her. Please, help her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He couldn’t say no. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their first visit was standard. Emily was young, far more than most of his patients. She was nervous, clearly scared until he assured her that he wasn’t a doctor, technically, and there wouldn’t be any shots. The first session was paperwork, and get-to-know-you’s. They played with wooden blocks, she giggled at his sock puppets. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>By the end of the hour, she’d started talking a little more. She was the brightest kid he’d ever met, with un-ignorable blue eyes and sass to rival his own. It was a thought he couldn’t stop from popping into his head. How this kid was exactly how he’d imagined his and Scully’s, in the darker moments of the last few years. The fantasy was more than that. But regardless, he squashed that thought, and instead focused on his work. Like always. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She had clear fears of authority, and signs of anxiety. She had trouble with impulse control, and focusing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He worked with her, last slot on Thursdays, every week. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And two months in, it happened. Six pm rolled around, they went into the waiting room, and found it empty. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder wasn’t worried at first. Emily was happy to go back in his office and finish the drawing he’d promised to save for next time. Leo Schofield wasn’t going to finish with his last patient till eight, so the building could stay open. And besides, not every parent is going to be on time, especially during rush hour. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was what he’d thought. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Thirty minutes, and he started to worry. He called the number listed for Nora. No answer. He called her husband. No answer. He went down the roster, every emergency contact, and his practice required a lot of them. Two were answering machines, the other two disconnected. Something was off. He called down the list again. Nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily’s little jaw began to wobble, and he put on his most reassuring smile. He sat her down, and asked if her mommy had mentioned any errands that she was going on. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” she said, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She just hugged me a lot, and told me to come find you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, and told her how helpful she was. And then he let her take the sofa apart and make a pillow fort, while he went and called one more time. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nora was still less than an hour late, but his FBI training tugged in the back of his brain, and he could feel something was off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And with the happiest smile he could muster for Emily, he called the police. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was drunk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Had called in Thursday, went home Friday. There was a work trip to Phoenix next Tuesday, and she couldn’t imagine pulling herself together to make it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It wasn’t about the baby. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Okay, it was. A lot of it was. She wanted a baby, she wanted a family, but it was more than that. Murphy let her get away with a ‘fine’ as an answer, when she clearly wasn’t. She didn’t even check in when she was out sick, or went home. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her own mother, who’d begged her for years to settle down, was now telling her she wasn’t good enough to do it alone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then her own body went and agreed with her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took another swig, and felt the drawer behind her glow. God, she was drunk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Drunk enough to know she felt upset, sad. Drunk enough to want to call Mulder more than all those times in the last few years combined. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But simultaneously, sober enough to know it was not a good idea. What if he didn’t want to talk to her? What if his girlfriend picked up? What if he’d already called to change it, after giving it to Maggie. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She burrowed into the couch, wallowing further. There wasn’t even anything to blame it on. Her abduction, her three day alien cruise, which should’ve been like a beacon to him, hadn’t even had an impact. She was scratch-less. Pristine. Untouched. And they could say definitively that it was all just her. Every problem was normal. Standard. Ordinary. And devastating. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She closed her eyes, hoping for a moment the world would stop spinning, and maybe she’d feel a little better about it all. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, of course, that wasn’t what happened. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her junk drawer was torn apart looking for that receipt, and she felt herself start dialing the number on the back before she knew what she was doing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Muller? I'ss me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t know what to say next. Start with how she’s sorry about what happened, but mad at how he left. How much she’s missed him, and how his answering machine message sounds so nice and how she missed his voice. Should she admit that she wants to see him, so bad? She really, really missed him, and so much has happened, and she wished he were there to help her when it did, but how could he have known? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She fell asleep on her couch, clutching her phone. She awoke in the early hours of the morning, wondering what she had actually said, and when during that spiraling train of thought she’d had the good sense to hang up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stumbled off to bed, half praying that he would call her back in the morning. Her answering machine was empty all weekend. She went to Phoenix and back, and it was still empty. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Two weeks passed. Her only messages were billing questions from a doctor she wouldn’t return to, layered messages relayed twofold by her sister-in-law. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was two weeks, and he finally called back. Three am, in a hushed, guilt-ridden, don’t-let-her-hear-me voice, he called her back. Same soft charmer he was. He riffed for most of the message about how normal he’d become, how she’d like him a lot more now. She wondered if he’d be this flirty if he could call her at a decent hour, or if it was just a repeat of medical school. It had been three years. A lot can happen in three years. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He ended the message, his voice thick with concern. “I don’t know what you’re going through now, but I’m sorry. I know most of your message was just from an emotional place, and you may not have meant it, but it meant a lot to me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There were a few seconds where she wondered if the answering machine was lagging, but then he continued. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I’ve really missed you, too. And I really need your help, too. Call me back after ten, sometime this week. We can talk.” </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She didn’t call. </p><p>Why would she? She knew the signs like a bright red banner, even after near a decade. </p><p>The time span between her message, and his? A PR scramble. The only calling back at night. The longing, but whispered I-Miss-You. </p><p>She’d expected him to be different from Daniel. But then again, he was a lot that she didn’t expect. </p><hr/><p>Murphy was an overeager puppy when she arrived into work. </p><p>“Agent Scully, just in time! I have a few cases to look at and I was hoping for your opinion.” </p><p>Her head throbbed, her throat still felt sore, but she took her seat behind the scuffed, bronze plaque that read “Special Agent Dana Scully, MD”, like she still deserved the full title. </p><p>“Alright,” she croaked, and took the files from her new partner. </p><p>“Well, first, out in Utah, there’s a series of ritual killings, and no leads. Four victims, no connection, ranging in every criteria imaginable.” </p><p>“Mmmhmm.” </p><p>“Then we have a few disappearances up in New Hampshire, some kids went missing on the full moon, you can imagine the rest.” Murphy definitely lacked the flair Mulder had, and remembering it nearly made her head throb more. </p><p>“Over in Baltimore, there was a strange disappearance. A little girl got left with a psychologist, and her parents up and disappeared. The house was sterile, save for the kitchen, which had several blood samples. Both parents, and about four other individuals who haven’t been identified. The little girl is safe, but traumatized, and there haven’t been any new leads on the case in a month.” </p><p>Murphy flipped open the file, and showed her some of the crime scene pictures. Clean, warm house in the ‘burbs. The mantle picture of two smiling parents. She flipped through, only briefly pausing at the image of the sweet little girl, with long brown braids, and a red checkered dress. </p><p>Scully groaned, and squeezed her eyes shut, but her partner didn’t take notice. </p><p>She continued down the stack. Three more cases, each would have made Mulder click his heels. Half-consciously, she agreed with her partner. They’d start with the missing book club in Annapolis, and keep tabs on New Jersey afterwards. Here in the city, there was the one case they could look into, and the rest could be dispatched to local FBI departments.   </p><p>“Theoretically, we could also look into the missing couple in Baltimore, maybe interview the daughter.” Murphy read the file that had been sent over, and chuckled at it. “From what it looks like, she’s a bright, but imaginative kid.” </p><p>She winced, and shook her head. “We’ll leave it for a bit. There are more pressing cases, and the couple probably will turn up soon. Those Baltimore cops know what they’re doing.” </p><p>She didn’t wait for Murphy’s confused look. There were running jokes about the Baltimore PD. But without waiting for a debate, she made a beeline to the restroom. </p><p>She’d had a perfect record, five years and counting. She could be unprofessional for one day, one minute. She'd go home with the ‘stomach bug’ after another hour of work, sure her face wasn’t portraying the collapse her body was feeling. </p><p>No trust in her partner, no love from her mother. Her friends kept away, like they were scared if they got close enough, they'd step into a tractor beam. </p><p>It took three deep breaths, and a stack of wet paper towels to calm her down. Murphy would hold her accountable for those choices she’d made. They’d get to the little girl eventually, and she promised herself she’d be civil, and warm. But it didn’t stop this feeling from coming. This helplessness, this loss. </p><p>And she wondered if this is what Mulder felt when he was haunted. </p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr">
  <hr class="tmblr-truncated"/>
</div><p>His dismissal hearing had been a slow march, and the most humiliating part was having his ex-partner drive him home, her backseat full of his belongings. </p><p>Skinner warned him not to push it. Told him he’d keep working to get him back in, but it didn’t look good. </p><p>His apartment was already cluttered, what difference did some spackle-covered pencils make? </p><p>Scully tried to tidy things up, even lingered with her armload, asking if each location she set a different item was alright. If it had just been him, he’d toss at random, and hope he didn’t break the window. </p><p>Nothing mattered anymore. Scully said she’d keep him updated with what they were working on, even try and hire him as a consultant, but they could both see the subtext. He tried to tell her to get out. To let him turn off the lights and wallow in his misery. </p><p>It wasn’t his protests that drove her away. </p><p>He let her order some food, and sit next to him on the couch. He picked the movie, she picked the dinner. It wasn’t Ed Woods that drove her way. </p><p>Halfway through Plan Nine, her shirt was lost behind the couch, his dress pants, never to be worn again, were shoved under the coffee table. The masking tape X was nearly steamed off the window, their breathless pants in time with the VHS clicking. He offered to let her stay the night. There was a bed somewhere in the next room, or an air mattress she could use. He was halfway through a human-Jenga proposal when he realized she was asleep. He tucked her in, letting her take the couch. </p><p>For a moment, he sat on the floor. Her short hair wouldn’t stay tucked behind her ear, and she slept far more peacefully than he ever had on this couch. Admissions never came easy for either of them, but something in the way of love was frozen on his lips that night. </p><p>He remembered an old mattress pad in the next room, and figured it was better than the cold, wooden floor. But he didn’t need it when he returned. He came out to the living room, wanting to add an “I don’t want to lose you”. But it was too late. </p><p>He was missing a sweatshirt from the desk, and her keys were grabbed off the table. </p><p>His answering machine stayed empty for days. He didn’t want to hear about her new partner. Didn’t want to hear about Skinner’s crusade to get him back in. Honestly, his promise was probably just for show. </p><p>She called him later that week, after he spent four days on the couch moping. They exchanged small talk, and after several decreasing offers, he finally agreed to a movie night the following week. </p><p>But he couldn’t go back. Five stages right? Denial, anger, depression, bargaining, acceptance. He rarely made it to 5, but on Friday, he awoke at reveille and started packing. </p><p>He visited Scully’s apartment for long enough to slide an envelope under her door. It was a lengthy explanation, summed in two words: “clean break”. </p><p>Notice was given to his landlord, a new lease signed in Baltimore. He cleaned. He purged. Scully’s shirt was burned alongside Diana’s old things in the alley outside. </p><p>He’d start again, new. Pick your stage, he fit them all. </p><p>New place, new number, new life. While Scully soldiered on, he moved forward, trying to forget what he wanted to regret. </p><p>Until one night when an officer showed up at his practice with a grim look on his face, and a stuffed bunny under his arm.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Doctors had spent years trying to get him to value sleep. Strangely, what finally took was a three year old with trauma and an overactive imagination, screaming at all hours.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her nightmares, her clinginess, her picky eating set aside, things were good. They had a routine. They had stability. He loved her immensely, and suddenly couldn’t imagine going back to his lonely life before. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Jill picked up Monday through Wednesday, but the rest of the week, he rearranged so he could be there. 12:30 pm, on the dot, he was in her new preschool’s yard, waiting with the grandparents and babysitters. Her little backpack, almost reaching her knees, would bounce as she ran towards him, and tackled him. Every day. Once she got the biting under control, she could be in the NFL. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Usually, they’d run some errands, maybe go to the playground. But it had been a long day, and he couldn’t fathom seeing anyone. So, they went straight home. His tank was practically at empty, but he rolled the dice. No stops. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Once inside the gated property, they ate some lunch, and then played with the soccer goal the building manager’s son had passed down to them in the lot out back. It was an Emily-sized ball, which meant Emily-sized rules. Only she gets to touch the ball, and only she can keep score. His psychologist brain warned that this was a sign of possessiveness, and lack of empathy. His logical brain reminded himself that she was three and given the day, she could have a win. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She was upset because Cody put his painting on top of hers on the drying rack, and now hers was smudged. He was upset because of what was and what wasn’t waiting for him upstairs. A ringing phone, or a silent one. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Three goals ahead, and she finally picked up on something being off. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What’s wrong?” she asked, mimicking the tone he used at three am, when he awoke to her shaking his shoulder. “Why are you sad?" </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He hesitated, not wanting to get into the intricacies of a missing persons investigation or complex relationship with his former partner. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I’m not sad.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You’re not smiling, and you’re thinking a lot.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He suppressed a requested smile. “What makes you think I’m thinking a lot.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily shrugged. “You keep making this face.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She demonstrated. Jaw clenched like Popeye, kind of squinting, eyebrows furrowed. He laughed, certain his face was not that extreme, but otherwise she was on the money. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Okay, you got me. I’m thinking.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She kicked the ball back and forth, to herself every time. “About what?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Well…” he began, unsure of how to explain his and Scully’s relationship to a three year old. "I had a friend a long time ago, and we were best friends. I loved her a lot, but I had to move away, and so we didn't talk that much. and a couple weeks ago, I ran into her mom, and I got her phone number to talk to her." </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Did you call her?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I tried. She called me, and I called back. We kept missing each other, but I really miss her, so I’m just thinking about when she will call back." </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily’s eyes widened, ready to accept this mission. “She might be calling back right now!” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He chuckled, it being only three pm. “Maybe, sweetie. But likely she’s at work and really busy.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Stubborn girl, Emily was. She left the little soccer ball at her feet, and pulled his shirt sleeve. “We should go wait.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her little feet slid around as she was anchored to his unmoving arm. “You forgetting something?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She stopped, thought for a second, and sheepishly pulled the little soccer goal into the garage and put the ball inside. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Now, can we go wait?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He smiled, and took her hand, and they walked up to the apartment. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <hr/>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All you have to do is show up, Dana.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled her eyes, and nearly ignored her mother. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’s nice. He calls his mother every day, he wants to have kids-” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her jaw tightened. “So, that’s what this is about?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All I’m saying is that you both have similar goals and plans-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t need you telling me how to do this,” she said, glad the phone was just barely out of arms reach. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just show up Dana. I called Alice, and she said you had an opening between cases tomorrow.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, as much as I would love if my <em>work partner</em>, Agent Murphy were entirely in charge of my schedule, sadly I won’t be available. Tell him I’ll try another time, <em>maybe</em>.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“An hour, Dana, that’s all I’m asking. You just have to show up and be polite.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just like you just <em>had</em> to support and love me?” There was practically steam coming out of Scully’s ears, and for a moment, she almost had it with this conversation. Three years ago, she might have regretted the tone of that last comment, back when things were almost looking good between them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother saved her the trouble, and hung up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She naively thought that would be it, but later that night, received a call from “Aaron” himself, who was “so excited to meet her”, and glad she was “completely available.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wanted so badly to be the bad guy. Clench her teeth, tighten her grip, and tell him that no, she would not be attending. But as much as she hated it, it was nice. Nice to have someone sound genuinely excited to hear from her. Nice that there was someone again to initiate social contact. Nice that she didn’t have to have a medical degree for someone to talk to her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll meet you there at eight?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She felt a little something in her chest, at the prospect of having something in her calendar that wasn’t medical or professional. She wanted to crush that feeling, but she couldn’t. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d be there at eight. Not eight: the time she went to work in the morning, or eight: the airport arrival for her midnight flight. Eight, the hour normal people go to restaurants and meet other normal people. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be there,” she said, setting her phone down on the machine, and for the first time all week, went to sleep without thinking about the message that had been playing on loop. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They’d negotiated down from an Arthur binge on PBS. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Snack time came and went, and eventually Emily’s attention had turned from the unringing phone to a coloring book. She’d started yawning early, the dark, warm storm clouds making the world lethargic. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You ready for your nap?” he asked, and got a stubborn glare. “Yeah, that’s not making me think you don’t need it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What if she calls?” she squealed, as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then I’ll pick up the phone,” he said, tossing her onto the bed the way she always thought was funny, but today, it didn’t break her mood. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But I wanna be there! What if you miss it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I won’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They were nose to nose, staring each other down. The wheels rotated in Emily’s head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But I want to be there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How about I bring the phone in here, and I’ll sit in that chair with it while you nap?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it has to be out there!” Emily’s eyes widened a moment, realizing what she’d just admitted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really? It has to be out there?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” she said, slowly dragging out the word. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Near the TV?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was silent. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the Arthur special that was coming on?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wouldn’t meet his eye, and he cracked a smile. “Nice try.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But why can’t I?” she whined, and the discussion went on for a while. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The compromise: nap on the couch, phone on the coffee table. TV on, but set to the “boring” and “stupid” Giants V. Yankees game. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was out like a light before the second inning. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone call came as he was making dinner, sending her hurtling over furniture to bring him the phone. “It’s her!” she screamed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, and picked up the phone, sure it was just a telemarketer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fox Mulder?” a woman asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, this is him.” He had a sinking feeling in his chest that this was the other call he was expecting. Emily did an excited, happy dance on the floor, only stopping when he gave her a disappointing shake of his head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is Detective Michelle Danvers, I was in charge of the missing persons case you called about a few days ago?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right yes. I was interested in an update, as I hadn’t heard anything in a while.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I did want to let you know that while it is still open, there has been talk of labelling it a cold case.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” he asked, glancing over at Emily, who’d grumpily turned on the TV without permission and was watching coverage of a Senate debate. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s been over a month without any new leads. We were going to get the FBI involved, due to the high profile of the disappearances, but because nothing has resurfaced, and there’s not reasonable concern for the daughter’s safety anymore, my department has been asked to move to more pressing cases.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He squeezed his hand. “The car was just discovered-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And we took that into account, but nothing came of it. And like I said, it’s just a cold case. It can be reopened if new evidence comes to light.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.” He swallowed hard, and hung up, not wanting to hear any more. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I have apple juice?” Emily tugged on his pants leg. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His expression softened. “Yeah, sure.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What was the phone call? Was it your friend?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Was it about my mom and dad?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took a big drink of juice, giving him a second to think, then looked back at him with her big, curious eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, it was,” he said, softly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did they find them?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head. “They’re still not sure where they are.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, thoughtfully.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he said, crouching to meet her eyes, but she wouldn’t look up. “It’s okay to be sad or to miss them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded again, and padded closer to hug him. He picked her up, and walked her to the couch. They sat down, her still not letting go. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You still interested in the infrastructure debate or can I change the channel for you?” he asked, and she giggled, snuggled closer.   </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He flipped through the channels, finding a silly kid’s spy movie already started. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They ate dinner without talking, and he brushed her teeth, and read her a story until she fell asleep in her new, far oversized bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shut the door behind him softly, and started the nightly routine of pulling blankets out to make up the couch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the cushions, he found the other handset, and went to take it back to the cradle. For a moment he hesitated, having been so caught up in Emily’s case news that he’d forgotten the other call he’d hoped for. It was only eight pm, somehow. Maybe earlier would be better to reach her. If she’d kept the same routine for three years, he figured she’d be eating dinner in front of a medical journal or casefile, maybe a rom-com if it were a light week. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was tired, worn from the day, but still he found himself dialing her number. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Six rings, and the machine picked up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is the answering machine of Dana Scully. Please leave a name and number after the tone.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was the first time he’d heard her sober voice in years, and he felt his chest ache. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried calling back again. The third time, he gave up, and fell onto the couch in disappointment. Three years had passed since she would have picked up the phone at two am. Maybe she had caller ID now, maybe she had a new schedule, a new life, just like him. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous to expect her to wait around, let everything remain the same. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A lot can change in three years. But he’d never anticipated the stinging realization that his feelings for her were the only thing that wouldn’t.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hoping to get chapter 6 out by Wednesday/Thursday, and 7 by the weekend!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aaron Daum was handsome. And that was about it. </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>She arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late, and he was sitting in the corner booth, finger on his watch like her father on prom night. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Sorry,” she mumbled. “There was traffic.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He raised an eyebrow, but let his pursed lips say it all. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>They were quiet, him far less charming than he was over the phone. Maybe it was just the new day or the full night of sleep. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>A waiter came by and took their orders, and left them sitting there like she was thirteen again, and Melissa had just made her go talk to the cute boy at coffee hour after church. A bomb could be under the table and there’d still be nothing to talk about. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Your mom said you were a doctor,” he said, finally. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yeah. I went to University of Maryland, and am a medical doctor, certified pathologist, and have worked with the FBI for five years now.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He spun the paper napkin on the table with one finger. “Impressive.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She nodded. “It’s interesting work. What is it that you do again?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I work in sales.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“That must be… interesting,” she said. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Pays the bills.” Which was, coincidentally, the only thing listed in his “pro” column at the end of the night. </p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“How was it?” Maggie asked, when Scully accidentally answered the phone without looking at the ID. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Perfect, we’re getting married Sunday,” she said in a monotone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s no need to be sarcastic, Dana.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed. “It was fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a minute of air time, and Scully began to hang up, but Maggie stopped her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was meaning to ask how your doctor’s appointment went?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully stopped, phone halfway to the cradle. “How do you know about that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alice mentioned you were out at one when I called the other day.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully squeezed her eyes shut. “Well, clearly that was before I had the talk with her about confidentiality…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana, I just wanted to see how it was going.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallowed hard. “Fine. We’re exploring my options around IVF. Not much to tell, but I have an early morning tomorrow, so I have to go.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That night, she fell asleep empty, covered in bath oils, in an empty bed, in an empty room, in an empty apartment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Dana, I understand that you are invested in carrying a child, but with the low chances of IVF taking, and your disinterest in surrogacy, I do have to recommend you look into adoption. You will have a harder time, with a demanding job, and without a partner, but it’s not unheard of.” </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>A partner</em>. She rolled over and pressed her face into her pillow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“I heard you are interested in having children. I am too, but unfortunately with my work taking me all over the place, I wouldn’t be around much.” </em> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She huffed into a pillow. <em>Some guy, Mom. </em></p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“What do you mean they’re gone? Her mother was here two hours ago dropping her off.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The detective glanced out of the corner of his eye at Emily in the next room. “I mean, security cameras at Washington Dulles show Nora Cutler leaving with a one way ticket. Her husband, Frank hasn’t been seen since he left work on his lunch break this morning. We’re currently still investigating the house, and will update you if any new information surfaces. Please let us know immediately if either of them get in contact with you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, still trying to wrap his brain around it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We also have to recommend that you change up Emily’s schedule. Because both Frank and Nora know where to find her at preschool, we recommend you either keep her home for the time being, or alert the school officials to not let them near her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder’s head spun around. “Wait, what?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The detective looked confused. “You’re Emily Cutler’s legal guardian.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His head began to spin, and glanced back at Emily, making sure she was still playing on the floor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We have the documents here- both parents signed the forms a couple months ago, and your signature is on them. You will have to file more paperwork with the state for full custody, but with all that’s happened with her family and your history with child psychology and the FBI, you’d have an easy case for it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled a folder out of an evidence bag, finding the form inside. “Here it is.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder picked it up, scanning the unfamiliar document. He was certain he’d never seen it before, but on the bottom of the page, there his signature was. He could even feel the pen grooves on the other side of the page. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What happens if I don’t get custody?” he asked, quietly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She would be taken by the state, and likely placed in foster care.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He swallowed hard, and glanced back one more time at the little girl. She noticed him this time, clearly confused by his furrowed brow, but gave a little smile and wave. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you for letting me know,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, of course. Listen, when we searched the house, we did find a duffel bag packed, with her name and a note from Nora. We’ve searched the bag and determined that it’s safe for you to take home, mostly clothes and some toys, but we have taken the note as evidence.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, you can just leave the bag out here in the waiting room, I’ll grab it for her after we talk.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The detective nodded, and moved away, to confer with the building security guard who just pulled up the camera footage. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder, body stiff, walked over to Emily, and crouched down. “Hey,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t look up, but her shoulders tensed like she knew it was bad news. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I bet you’re wondering what’s going on.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t meet his eye, or move at all. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, uh, your mom and dad had to go away all of a sudden, and so you’re going to come and stay with me for a little while.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t look up, just moved one of the blocks around on the floor absently. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Does that sound alright to you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know it’s probably scary right now, but we’ll have some fun.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked up, eyes glassy. “Are they in trouble?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitated for a second. “No, they’re not. We just want to find them, and we want to make sure you stay safe too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What if they find me?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, when your parents come back they’ll have to answer some questions, and as soon as it's okay for you to go home with them-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, not them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder’s stomach dropped, and his chest felt cold. “Who’s ‘they’? Who are you worried about finding you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shrugged. “Mom said I should come find you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is that when she left you here earlier?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily nodded. “She said I shouldn’t go with anyone else, in case they find me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know who she was talking about?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you remember anyone being mad or hurting your mom or dad?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head, a little more vigorously this time, a few tears spilling over her cheeks. She crawled over to him, and hugged him, and in that moment, he didn’t care about the mysteriously signed form, or how his work schedule would fit around a three year old’s. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay,” he whispered. “They won’t find you. You’re gonna be safe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That night, after a dinner of chicken nuggets and ice cream sandwiches, she fell asleep in a nest of pillows on his bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waited until he was sure she was out, and double, triple checked the locked windows and empty closets. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once certain the apartment was clear, he went quickly to the living room, and found the phone. The first number he tried was the wrong one. Either Skinner had changed his in the last three years, or his memory was worse than he thought. Next, he tried the Gunmen, with little hope. They kept up with him once a year, at most, especially after how he’d left everything. They’d long since stopped updating him on their monthly phone number change. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then, he almost tried Scully. That was the one number he knew he hadn’t forgotten. Hell, the last four digits were his ATM pin code. He tried dialing, his fingers ghosting over each button. But then, his eyes would snap shut, and he’d remember last year. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The doorstep. The laughing. The screaming. He’d watched the funeral from thirty yards. And he knew he couldn’t call her personal number, not even for this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi, I need to speak with an agent in the X-Files department…” he said. “Yes, it’s about an ongoing case in Baltimore, Maryland. I really need to speak with either someone on the X-Files or Assistant Director Walter Skinner, can you transfer me or give me the contact- “ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The switchboard agent sent his call, and a woman picked up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello, this is Special Agent Alice Murphy, with the X-Files Division, I was told you had information about a case Mr. … Fox Mulder?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes,” he said. “There’s a missing persons investigation in Baltimore, Maryland. The local PD haven’t contacted the FBI about it yet, I don’t believe, but I used to be an agent, and actually worked with Special Agent Scully on the X-Files, and I wanted to let you know that I think it has something to do with a case we’d been building against a syndicate within our government-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m going to stop you right there, Mr. Mulder. I appreciate the tip, but what you’re saying isn’t enough for me to ask onto this investigation. I’d be happy to look into it, if we get the paperwork through standard channels, but as of this time, it’s not enough to just hear about a new case from someone who used to work here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His jaw clenched. “I have a three year old girl who could be in danger about this- I did your job for five years, and I can tell you that this is plenty to go off- we had plenty of evidence-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mr. Mulder, like I said, we appreciate it, and may look into it in the future-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is Agent Scully there? I need to talk to her-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, she’s not here, and you may not. Like I said, there’s nothing I can do. Good night.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And the line went dead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Heart pounding, unable to think rationally, he picked the phone back up and dialed Scully. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He got three rings and the robotic answering message that came with the box. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried to say something. Leave a number, tell her what happened, tell her he was sorry. But no words came out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He limply hung up the phone, and stumbled back into the bedroom. He curled up in the chair by the window, wanting to keep watch, even as his eyes were drifting shut. He’d have to do this alone, he realized. And before he could feel bad about it, he was hit with the memory that alone is exactly what he’d asked for, and with it, he drifted off to fitful sleep. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>The morning after her date, Scully woke up to a ringing phone, and a pounding headache. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, Agent Scully, I just wanted to check in with you about travel details for the Utah case next week.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She groaned into the pillow at Murphy’s cheerful attitude, but she resisted hanging up on her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Actually, I was thinking about it last night,” she said. “I think the strangler in Salt Lake City can wait a little longer, I want to get to that Baltimore missing persons case before that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you see the memo that came through yesterday? They took the case back, and we’re not needed on it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She frowned. “What do you mean we’re not needed? It was practically a cold case, there hadn’t been new leads in almost two months. We should be able to get on it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy sighed. “No, and I already talked to AD Kersh, and he agreed that the Utah case is more pressing, so he approved our travel budget. So, is the Tuesday flight still good?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully swallowed a lump in her throat, something feeling deeply <em>off</em> about this case. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, that’s fine,” she said, slowly. “I’ll see you then.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hung up the phone, and immediately went to the desk where the Baltimore case sat jumbled in a drawer. </p>
  <p>She opened the file, flipping through, hoping that something would jump out to her as obvious and false. But there was nothing to make her doubt what she had just been presented with. Like Murphy had said before. Weird, but standard disappearing case. 5-6 year old girl, left with some psychologist while her parents skipped town. There was a smattering of pictures, references, statements, but it was all the same unfamiliar that each new case seemed to have. No links to a syndicate, no abduction reports. For a moment, she felt that girl's pain deep in her soul. How she too wished what was taken from her to be for a bigger purpose than just her pain. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>It was Day 7 of Mulder’s Friend not calling, and Emily was starting to lose interest. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Maybe she just forgot your phone number,” she suggested, kicking his seat absently from her carseat. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He smiled, remembering how often in college his friends has suggested that exact thing. “Maybe.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You should call her again.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He sighed, staring out the front window until the light turned green. “Maybe.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“We watched a movie today,” she announced, subject changed. “And Cara sat beside me.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“That’s great!” he smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “Are you guys friends now?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily bounced her feet, catching his seat a couple times more. “Yeah. An’ I’m friends with Alex, and Tate, and Ruby.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He turned on his blinker, and checked each way. “That’s awesome.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Oh, and Davey. And Sal.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“That’s so many.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yeah.” She started drawing on the foggy, mid-morning window. “Are we almost home?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Mulder turned into the grocery parking lot, and turned off the car. “Really? We discussed this ten minutes ago.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily gave him an ornery grin. “I thought you would forgot.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He got out, and opened her door, finally able to unbuckle her without catching her shirt or pinching her hand. Only took a month of practice. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“We can hurry, right?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He smiled. “Yeah, totally. We’ll try and beat our record time.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She hopped out of the car, and grabbed his hand to walk in. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>They were in aisle 4, seventeen minutes short of their record, when it happened. A business man, dressed in a suit turned the corner. At first, he didn’t think anything of it, just nudged Emily out of the way for him to pass. But then, the man stopped. And Emily stopped. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She grabbed a fistful of his pants leg, and held on like it was a life raft. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He glanced down with a worried chuckle. “You okay, honey?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He looked up at the man, and smiled. “She’s a little shy-“ </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And then, he stopped too. </p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Utah was a bust. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The case was open and shut. The motel didn’t have air conditioning or cable. Murphy was smug the entire time. Her brother called halfway through the trip with ‘his thoughts’. By the end of it, she just wanted to curl up on <em>her</em> bed, in <em>her</em> apartment, and not be disturbed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She collapsed onto the couch the second she walked through the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone rang, and she left it to start a bath. It was probably just Murphy wanting to talk about the case, or her mother picking a fight. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It rang again, and she kicked the door closed from her bubbly fetal position. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It rang despite the classic music that played, it rang while she toweled off, while she dressed in the pajama’s she’d dreamt about all week. It rang with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, it rang while she tried to get into bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Eventually, she nearly picked up, hung up, and left it off the hook. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She even went to do so. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then she stopped. On the little green-grey screen, she saw the ten little numbers she had memorized in only three weeks of knowing them. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Hi Emily!” The man waved, smiling as wide as he had in that mantle picture from the file. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She clung to him tighter, and Mulder instinctively picked her up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You must be Fox Mulder- I’m sorry I was never at pick up with my wife. But both she, and that little one right there, raved about you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took one step closer, and Mulder, took one step back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Listen, I meant to let you know. I talked it over with the police. It was all a big misunderstanding, and we should have everything cleared up soon, and then, we can go back to normal.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, far too widely, at Emily. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder held her tighter, and took another step back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We need to go,” he said. “If anything’s returning to normal, it will happen with proper authorization.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Frank Cutler simply smiled widely in response, as they backed away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder left the shopping cart in the aisle, not caring about anything except for getting Emily out of there. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That wasn’t him,” she mumbled into his ear. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gripped her tighter. “What do you mean?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>What is with the two second delay on automatic doors when you’re in a hurry?</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It looked like him, but it wasn’t him.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His heart sped up as he carried her back to the car, and in record time, had the straps of her car seat buckled securely. Hands shaking, he switched the car into gear, and rolled out of the parking lot. They took a couple random turns, Emily not protesting at the extension of their trip. When he was certain that no one had followed them, he brought them home, and unusually parked the car in the back of the building, by the garage. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the way up to the apartment, he called the detective from his cell, and let her know about it. But all he got was a brush off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll look into it” doesn’t really help when you have a shaking three year old and an unsolved case. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What if he comes and finds us?” she asked, once they were back in the apartment. She was way ahead of him, displaying a kind of thought-out fear that he didn’t expect from a kid so young. She checked under all the chairs, and in closets, like she was looking for a slobbering monster, but knowing that wouldn’t be what she would find. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Together, they checked the apartment, her looking for monsters, and him looking for bugs. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s going to be alright,” he said, once they’d exhausted the search, and he’d parked her in front of the TV. “How about we just relax a bit, huh?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He never thought he’d thank god for the Muppets, but there he was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried the X-Files office first, getting no answer. He tried Scully’s number, getting no one either. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waited a couple hours, watching the Wiggles at Emily’s request, and the Yankees/Cubs game at his. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The night wore on and he got no answers, at either the office or her home. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Office hours passed, and he started hounding her number, filling up her answering machine, begging her to pick up. Still nothing. Dinner was buttered noodles at Emily’s request, and three (just three) baby carrots, at his. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No answer before or after. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He helped her bathe, brush her teeth, read her three stories until she was out like a very stressed, high strung light. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And then, he retired to the living room, picking the phone up one more time before he lost hope. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He called once. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Twice. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Three times. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d so long been called obsessive, but if she would hear him out once, this time it was justified. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He started to lose hope, wondering if she’d finally changed her number, or if she was just out of town and he was doing this for nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But twelve minutes short of midnight, six rings down, there was a click. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He waited, expecting the hope-filled pause that always preceded the answering machine message, but this time there was nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And he wondered if it was a fluke, maybe a system error, but then he heard a soft, familiar inhale. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Scully?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was quiet, but just about the best thing he’d ever heard. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>next part should be out Wednesday/Thursday of next week! thank you so much for reading and supporting this!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>“Hi.” It was about all she could manage, but he didn’t seem to mind. </p></div><div class=""><p>He exhaled in relief so loud she could hear it over the phone. “You picked up.” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Yeah, well, you weren’t giving me many other options.” Her throat was still tight, but she couldn’t help that warm feeling in her chest when he gave a little chuckle. </p></div><div class=""><p>“I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but I really need your help, and I don’t know what to do, can you please hear me out?” </p></div><div class=""><p>Scully squeezed her watery eyes shut, took a deep breath, and whispered: “Okay.” </p></div><div class=""><p>“I don’t want to do this over the phone,” he said. “Can we please meet? Soon?” </p></div><div class=""><p>She wiped her cheek, and muffled a stuffy inhale with her shoulder. “Yeah, when and where?” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Whenever you can, as soon as you can. And wherever you want.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She felt her jaw constrict. “Your apartment, seven tomorrow morning.” </p></div><div class=""><p>If she was going to confront him, see him in all his new life’s glory, it was going to be in broad daylight, with every spectator he was hiding present. </p></div><div class=""><p>“That’s perfect,” he breathed. “You, uh, need the address and apartment number.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She found a pen and a piece of junk mail. “I’ll be there.” </p></div><div class=""><p>“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.” </p></div><div class=""><p>She could still hear him breathing on the other end, even after they said goodbye. Almost paralyzed, she realized he didn’t want to be the first one to hang up. She hit ‘end’ so hard, the button stuck in its slot for a second.   </p></div><div class=""><p>She thought if she ever heard from him again, if he would offer up a reasonable explanation for his strange behavior, she could move past it all. But now, talking to him in real time, she didn’t know if she could. It had been good to hear his voice on the message. It had been good to fantasize about going back to how it was. But he had a new life, and it was ever more clear how different things were when he only contacted her when he needed something. </p></div><div class=""><p>She went to bed, setting her alarm early, and tried to fall asleep for a couple hours. But after too long spent tossing and turning, she rolled flat on her back and let the memories overwhelm her. </p></div><div class=""><p>She’d seen him, last year. Walking past the hospital with flowers, in his best suit. He’d had more scruff on his face, but she could have picked him from a line of a thousand. </p></div><div class=""><p>The worst night of her life, and like fate had sent him, he was there. Walking towards her, slow motion, eyes trained on the ground. As he got closer, she could tell he’d aged, even in just two years. He was ten meters away, his trajectory slowly misaligned from her. He was just passing by, but close enough he could have heard her breathe. She expected him to look up, maybe just a moment to see her. Maybe he’d go inside, maybe just hug her. She wouldn’t have let any of the other stuff matter, if he had just been there. But like his head were surrounded by a dark cloud, he lost his ability to notice her. Or maybe she had changed too much too. And he walked right past, continuing down the sidewalk, towards apartment buildings and restaurants, and left her behind in the dark. </p><p> </p></div></div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>She was there by six forty-five, standing in front of the gate that surrounded the property. Far from the Hegal Place hellhole, this was something a life could be built from. She reached forward, and touched the little fence. It was almost picket, and she’d just barely missed out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Three years before, she’d stood in front of Hegal Place, his letter in hand, wondering if it were even worth going up. She knew what she wanted to say. That a clean break is ridiculous, after all they’d been through. That he couldn’t just run away from his problems. That that night had meant <em>everything</em> to her, and she couldn’t believe that he’d ever think that he was less important to her than the X-Files. That she wasn’t capable of separating the two. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But then again, three years ago, it had been different. Three years ago, when she went up to his apartment, she had the naiveté to believe it would really be him up there. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, as she swung open the gate, and approached the buzzer box, she knew better than to hope for the man that she had known, the one her mother had spent years thinking had just 'gotten away'. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“You’re so blinded, Dana!”</em> It had been a rough night for both of them, but her words weren’t something that could be reasoned away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She listened for the buzzing to stop, and for the click of the door unlocking. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“This quest you have, what could you find that could make up for what you’ve lost?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Each step up to the second story creaked with her each move, and a warm, golden light filtered in from the entry windows. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“You should have given it up!”</em> Her mother had screamed at her. <em>“Fox had the good sense to, and maybe if you had followed his lead, you wouldn’t have lost out on that, too.” </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She found his apartment. It had a sunny yellow door, and a shining, single digit number. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her fists clenched at her sides, knowing logically that each individual thing added up wasn’t just a result of his leaving, but still wanting to blame him nonetheless. Still wanting him to have less than this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before she could even knock, he slipped out of the apartment, closed the door behind him, and turned to her with regret-filled eyes. It took him a second to speak, but she was just as stunned as he. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you for coming,” he said, as genuine as he had the night of his Bureau hearing. “I just want to start out by saying I’m sorry about everything that happened, and that I did, and I hope I can make it up to you..” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her fist unclenched, and found residence in her pocket. “Yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was nothing that could have preserved her anger, when she faced him again, in the flesh. Suddenly, the time that had passed didn’t count, and she felt every ounce of tension slowly melt down to her feet, and out through the floorboards. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean, that’s probably not going to cut it, but I just want to start with that.” The circles under his eyes were darker, but his face still spread into that same toothy grin. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stepped forward, no longer in control of her body, and hugged him. He stumbled back a step, like the first time in the motel that she’d hugged him, and carefully wrapped his arms around her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know about Melissa,” he said. “I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something unknown in her tensed again, but she didn’t respond. Just pressed her nose to his sternum and let him tighten his grip around her shoulders. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A TV turned on loud in the apartment, and he chuckled. She pulled back, seeing that the moment had gone. That it was now again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry I’m a little early,” she said, and he smiled warmly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No problem, we’ve been up since five.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallowed hard, already imagining who this ‘we’ was, and what they were doing at five. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Emily,” he called, opening the door. “Turn off the TV for a second, I want you to meet someone.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She followed him in, eyes scanning the room in morbid curiosity. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You're Mulder’s friend? You’re so pretty!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked up in shock, finding the small voice coming from an even smaller person. The girl- Emily?- wiggled out from her blanket fort between the couch and the coffee table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you have red hair- did you make it red? Is it for Halloween? Is it Halloween soon?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glanced, speechless, and in deep confusion, between Mulder and the three year old hugging his leg. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder chuckled, and saved her the trouble of answering. “Nope, her hair’s red all the time. But like I told you, this is my friend Dana, and she’s going to help us out a bit.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Does she know about me?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, glancing between the two like he felt bad for leaving Scully out of this discussion. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m gonna tell her everything. Why don’t you go watch your show some more?”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily backed away slowly, not taking her eyes off Scully until Mulder hit the remote, and Elmo came back on. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We can talk in the kitchen,” he said, and gestured towards the table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, you have a daughter,” she said, her throat sore with jealousy and hurt. “Where’s her mother?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder poured two cups of coffee, and sat across from her at the table. “That’s actually why I called you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He must have sensed how she felt, and he quickly followed up. “She’s not mine. I mean, biologically. She was a patient, and her parents left her with me, and disappeared. I don’t know how much you can help me with, but she mentioned something about a ‘them’ the night they left, and recently things have been getting strange.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She furrowed her brows. “Strange how?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We ran into a man claiming to be her father at the store, after a month of no one knowing where he was.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But he wasn’t her dad?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not according to her. Even from ten feet, she got really scared and started trying to pull me out of there. Luckily there was enough evidence that he was guilty of a crime that I doubt he’ll get custody back, but there’s something weird going on, and I could really use your help. I keep getting brushed off about the case and I’m worried for her safety.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You sure this isn’t too close to the X-Files for you?” she mumbled into her coffee. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shut up for a moment, and stared between his knees. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry,” she said softly, but he shook his head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I deserved that. I’m so sorry. Back then… I always thought that my biggest goal was to find out what happened to my sister. I thought that if I couldn’t have that ever, I had to just shut the door on everything. I’m sorry that part of everything was you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stared bitterly at him. “The last few years have been hell for me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’ve been hell for me too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No. Not like they have me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He let her words sink into him, and slowly nodded. “I know,” he said, hushed. “I’m… I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily found them before either could speak again. “Can I have a popsicle?” She asked Mulder, but was looking at Scully, knowing he wouldn’t say no in front of a stranger, especially not to that face. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He rolled his eyes, and rose to get her one. “Only on the hardwood, no sitting on the couch with it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gleefully nodded, and leapt to grab it from him, feet running before they even touched the ground. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s really sweet,” Scully admitted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You should see her before nap time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully smiled, turning to see Emily dancing along with Elmo, a bright red popsicle smeared over her cheeks and chin. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know that I have a lot of making up to do, if we can ever get back to how it was, but I would love the opportunity, and some help with this case, if you’d be willing.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked back at Emily, who was now sticking out a bright red tongue to show Mulder, and giggling excitedly, dripping red spots all over the floor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“At least it’s not carpet,” he mumbled, and for the first time since that first IVF appointment, her chest felt warm. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know, Mulder, I never saw you as a father before.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” he said, smiling right back at her. “I don’t think I did either.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a moment that another two people, more romantic, would have called a spark. Something unspoken passed between them, almost warm, almost like it used to be. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I’ll see what I can do about the case,” she said, finally lowering her gaze. “What were her parents’ names?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Frank and Nora Cutler.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is it through Baltimore or Annapolis?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Baltimore.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She started writing down the names and location, but stopped, chest going cold. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is it?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think I’ve seen this case before.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His expression became worried. “That’s good, right? You probably have better information than I would.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head. “I’ve seen this case- it got mixed up in a bunch of new files we were sent. The dates match up, the location, even progression of events. Little girl gets left with a psychologist after her parents disappear. Their house was sterile, save for a blood-covered kitchen. No leads in a month.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, listening to her describe it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The file I got had the names, profiles, and pictures of the parents, the little girl, and the psychologist. I didn’t look into it that much, it was low on our list. But I did see the photo of the daughter.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder’s stomach dropped, seeing where she was going with this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully glanced over her shoulder one more time, seeing Emily now gnawing on the red, soggy popsicle stick, oblivious to them. And just as quiet and scared as Emily had spoken the day before in the supermarket, she turned back to Mulder and said: “That's not the same little girl.” </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:  I just want to preface this by saying- I know three year olds don’t play checkers and do like playing pretend, but I can’t write ‘playing pretend’ scenes without it seeming enormously cheesy so checkers it is. </p><p>On a different note, sorry about missing my planned Wednesday or Thursday posting, but I should be back to my Wednesday/Thursday, and Saturday/Sunday schedule next week!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>It was eight pm. Mulder donned his best suit, grabbed the flowers off the counter (from a real florist this time, not the produce section at the grocery), and drove across town. Her apartment had a warm glow to it. The curtains were drawn, and a figure busied about the room within. It took him a few tries, and some lasting damage to his heart, but he finally made it up to the door, and knocked. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Again, really?” she said, sighing as the door swung open. </p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Scully left Mulder’s apartment in a mad rush, fumbling for the keys longer than it would have taken if she was calm. She had to get to it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Breaking about four different traffic laws, she got home in record time, and raced up the stairs faster than she had in the Academy. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing was out of place. She locked the door behind her, and slowly made her way around the room, not wanting to miss any evidence that someone had been there. It was still there, on her desk where she’d left it, stuffed between two more pressing cases. The Baltimore missing persons file, labeled Cutler. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She opened it, glancing around as though there were others in her space that could potentially see it. Everything Mulder had described was there. The names were right, the address, the dates, the officers in charge. It was like a Where’s Waldo, and after careful examination, she found only two details wrong. The name of the psychologist, and the picture of Emily. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d have to take the parents’ photo to Mulder, see if they matched, but for the time being, she was deeply confused as to why someone had chosen to direct attention away from Mulder’s Emily. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The girl in the photo was a couple years older, but had similar features. Same hair color, eye color. She had dimples on her cheeks when she smiled too, but it was definitively different. She flipped the photo over, finding the back labelled with “Emily Cutler, 1995”. She flipped it over again, certain that the three year old she’d just met was a different person. Then why the hell were there two Emily Cutler’s for the same file. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stared at the writing on the back longer than necessary, letting thoughts swirl in her head. What does this mean? Where is this girl, and which is the real Emily? What happened to the parents, why is someone keeping these details hidden? And why, after everything that had happened, after three years of him not showing up, after three years of them changing independently, did she and Mulder still seem to be in sync? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone rang behind her, and she nearly caught air. She picked it up, heart returning to normal. “Yeah, Mulder. I found the file,and you’re right. Everything’s the same, but your name isn’t listed, and the photos are different. I can bring it by later this week, and look into it on my end, and keep you posted on what happens.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She returned to the file, trying to put her issues with Mulder on the back burner, seeing how much more pressing this case was. She started to pack all the documents up, when something caught her eye. On the back of the photo, under where Emily’s name was written, there was a slight discoloration around her name. The two surfaces didn’t quite match up. She thumbed the edge, suddenly noticing the difference in texture. She took the butt of a ballpoint pen, and scratched it a little. Sure enough, flecks of dried Wite-Out came off. She tried to take more off, knowing it was futile, but desperate to see what the Wite-Out was covering up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No avail came, so she carefully gathered the file together, and put it in her safe. It wouldn’t do much good to try and have the paint lifted off. One more time, before she closed the safe door, she snuck a peak at the photo once again. She felt her heart sink again, wondering who this lost little girl was. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“When’s Dana gonna come back?” Emily asked, bouncing her legs on the couch as Mulder attempted to teach her checkers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Probably not for a little while, she’s busy with work.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is she mad at you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder looked up in surprise. “Why- why do you ask?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily giggled and shrugged. “I dunno.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder pointed to the board, and she leaned forward and moved one of her pieces. An illegal move, but he didn’t care. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s a little mad at me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wasn’t there for her, when she needed me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I thought you moved away.” She was now stacking checkers into little piles, ignoring the game altogether. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did. But she… she had a lot of sad stuff happen, and I should have come back to cheer her up.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is she always gonna be mad at you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, knowing Scully. “Hopefully not. Hopefully, I can make it up to her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like her. She was nice.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me too. Okay, no, you can’t lick the checkers and make them yours like with grapes.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gave a hysterical laugh, and he started putting the pieces back in the box. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Am I going to school today?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t meet her eye. “No, not today. Jill’s just going to play with you at my office again, how’s that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glared at him. “But I wanna.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know you have a lot of fun there, but this is only going to be for a little while.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She opened her mouth to protest further, but he gave his newfound-Dad-staredown. “That’s enough. Let’s start getting ready, huh?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She marched her way into the bedroom and angrily punched the mattress and crawled up on it, sitting with her arms crossed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took a deep breath, and let her calm down for a few minutes while he tidied up. Better to focus on his failings as a parent, than his failings as a partner. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Scully called just as he and Emily were about to walk out the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the file is safe. I was right. Everything but Emily’s photo, and your name on the documents, is the same. The photo provided has her name on the back, but under it is another name, whited-out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you think you can lift what was under it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed. “I don’t know. It was carefully done, and these things never reveal much. But I looked at it again, and…” her voice drifted off. “Mulder, there’s a lot of resemblance between Emily and the girl in this photo. Emily’s a couple years younger, but it’s uncanny.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A chill ran down his spine. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you sure about this? I mean, Em- she’s really young. She could look like anybody. Maybe it’s just a random photo.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully drew in a shaky breath over the phone. “No… Mulder, you have to see this yourself. It’s just like her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried to answer, several moments with his mouth bobbing open. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” he finally stammered. “I’m sure you’re right.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know if Emily had a sister or if the Cutler’s had another child before her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced out the corner of his eye at Emily, now spinning in place by the door. “No, I wasn’t told anything.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I need my socks!” Emily screamed, and raced back to the bedroom. He watched her in slow motion, and as Scully started saying something about getting the case reassigned to her, his heart stopped. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There was a note.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When Emily was left with me, her mother left a note in a duffel bag of clothes. They handed over the duffel, but kept the note.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He heard Scully shuffling around, but she came back with an apologetic tone. “It wasn’t in there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Whoever changed her picture and my name probably took it as well,” he sighed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. I can try and get ahold of the original file, but it’s probably as changed as this one. I do have the photo of the parents as well, and you should take a look at it when you see the girl’s. I want to be sure it wasn’t changed too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, sure,” he said, watching as Emily started sliding around in her socks on the shined wood floor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You want to drop by tonight?” she offered, and he almost missed it this time. She added a nervous: “I’d like to get working on it as soon as possible, and the more I know the better.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there.” He wondered if her heart was pumping as fast as his was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“See you then,” she said, quietly, and he had just enough time to set the phone down and experience the warmth growing in his chest, before Emily came hurtling down the hallway and swept his legs out from under him. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>It was half past eight, and he was charmed and entranced outside Scully’s door. The Christmas wreath was still up, even after the amount of time that had passed. Despite how much he knew that what awaited him inside was probably going to be unpleasant and awkward, but he still stood feeling readier than ever to face it. Make amends, make it up to her. He had a bundle of white tulips in one hand, the other poised to knock. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The door swung open, and his nervous heart slowed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Again, really?” Melissa asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He groaned. “She’s not here is she?”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i made some minor continuity edits on early chapters (they didn't change the overall story)</p><p>thank you for bearing with me, i know it's been a while since my last update. My next should be by the end of the week, if not earlier :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>He was tidying his office after a particularly long day, when a knock came to the door. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hey, Leo,” he said, just barely glancing up. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hey, Fox, I was locking up, and some woman came to the door. She said she needed to talk to you?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He sighed. He’d gotten a couple angry phone calls from one mother throughout the week, and he steeled himself for an in-person confrontation. “Alright, send her in in a minute.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Will do- oh, I did mean to tell you that I have my niece’s graduation next week, so I won’t be here to lock up. You can see Cheryl on Monday for the keys.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“That’s great, what school?” First time in his life, he prayed for this small talk to never end. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Leo smiled proudly. “Jill’s out at Oregon State, but she’s moving back this summer.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Mulder felt a twinge in the back of his mind, but he smiled through it. “Oregon, that’s great.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He put his hands on his hips, and grinned cheerfully. “Oh, you ever been?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Mulder swallowed hard, and nodded. “Yeah, I liked it. They have good salmon.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Leo nodded. “Well, I’ll have to try that.” His whole body jumped when he realized why he came in. “Oh, better not keep her waiting.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Mulder took a deep breath as he settled into his seat. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>In the other room, Leo told the woman that “Fox will see her now”, and he braced himself for the door to come raging open. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Instead, he was greeted by an unfamiliar face in his door, and an amused smile. “I was told not to call you Fox.” </p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <hr/>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“I was just about to leave-“ he started, unsure of who this woman was who was making herself right at home. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you have one of those miniature zen gardens?” she asked, seating herself in the chair he usually sat in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighed, and shook his head. “No, little pebbles, little kids. Doesn’t mix.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The woman nodded, looking around the place. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I help you? What, uh, what are you doing here?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She chuckled. “Dana didn’t tell me you were so to the point. Actually, she told me quite the opposite. But I guess you two never knew each other well, did you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She waited for his reaction, studying him like he was the subject, and she the psychologist. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know her?” he asked, unable to bring himself to say Scully’s name. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He realized it before she could say it, hitting him like a ton of bricks. “I’m her sister. Melissa.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With a deep breath, Mulder slumped onto the couch, and put his head between his hands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“As for what I’m doing here-“ she continued. “I want to know what really happened between you two. And why she talks about you so happily most of the time, and yet every year, on this day, everything with her goes dark.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked at her between his fingers, expecting to see the same look on her face he had seen infrequently on Scully’s. Like she wanted to tear him to shreds. But in its place was just concern, with a touch of curiosity. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She hates me.” That was all the explanation that he could give. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s not it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For a moment, he’d thought he’d escaped. Two years had gone by, and he had a degree, a practice, a purpose. He missed Scully constantly, but it was like he’d gotten to start over. Let go of everything that had held him back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It might help to talk about it,” she offered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took a deep breath, and went to the place in his mind where he buried all his past failings. And he told her what happened that night. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>It was seven thirty, with the sun dipping on the horizon. Jill had arrived twenty seven minutes ago, and Emily is still kicking and screaming. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sweetie, I’ll only be gone for a little while. It’ll be okay, you know Jill.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Tears were bubbling in Emily’s eyes, breaking across her cheeks. “You said not at night.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know what I said, but I’m just going to see Dana, and then I’ll be right back. And if there’s any problems, Jill can call me and I’ll come right back.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily held her grip on his sleeve so tight, digging her feet into the couch for leverage. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I promise,” he said, smiling at her. “Everything’s going to be fine. I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t think so.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyebrows were still knit, but she gauged his look with trusting eyes, and slowly released his sleeves. “Okay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hugged her one last time, and gave a reassuring smile. “I’ll be back before you know it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, and he took one last look at her before leaving, seeing her criss-cross-applesauce on the couch, like an abandoned puppy waiting for his return before he was even gone. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“Hi,” Scully said, stepping aside awkwardly. “Come on in.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stepped inside, wringing his hands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I, uh, left the pictures on the table.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She started towards the kitchen, leaving him mindlessly toeing an uneven floorboard. The edge had come up the way old ones do. The maid in his childhood home had fought a losing battle with his muddy feet, and the floorboards cracked and peeled up with the water damage from moping. He ran his toe over the edge of the crack, wondering how many times Scully had scrubbed it in the year since. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Coming?” she asked, and he fought through a loss of breath and made his way to the kitchen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tea?” she asked, and held up a mug. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something in his brain snapped, and he sharply replied: “No.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked at him funny, but continued on her way. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are these the photos?” he asked, approaching the table but not sitting down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, the parents and the daughter.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She left him be for longer than he would have expected, puttering around the kitchen, and pretending to have things to do. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she finally caved, and turned back to him, she found him holding the girl’s picture in two hands, hunched over like it was another weight on his back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked up at her. “She’s her sister. There’s no doubt about it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully nodded. “I figured. Flip it over.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He did so, and found the writing on the back. “Emily Cutler, 1995.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That was last year, Emily would have only been two, but this girl is at least five.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s Wite-Out,” she said, and Mulder suddenly saw what she meant. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you have any way of finding what’s under it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully shook her head. “I checked with a couple guys at the lab, but any solution would pull the ink up too, and we’d end up with a blurry mess.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tossed the picture back on the table defeated. “Well… shit.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They stood in silence for a moment, flinching in unison when the kettle started screeching. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Those are the parents, though, right?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He examined the second photo, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He flipped it over too, hoping there would be some semblance of an explanation, but there was nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder glanced back up at Scully, finding her studying him with curious eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you going to sit down?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stared at those chairs, the ones she wouldn’t have known he sat in so recently. And he looked back at her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“C’mon,” she said, reading his face as well as she did years before. “Let’s go to the couch.” </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>“You need to fix this.” </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa’s words rang in his head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled up to Scully’s apartment on a Saturday morning, 1995, with nothing on his mind but making things right with her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tried knocking. Three times. Once he even made it to the door, but each time he turned around and walked away. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a coffee shop down the street and he found refuge there. Let fate decide what was to happen. If she walked in, he’d make it up to her. If she stayed away, he would too. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was there twelve hours, writing up some reports on a laptop, reading a bit. The sky outside grew dark, the crowds came and went like tides. Darkness settled over the shop, and with an hour left to go, he resigned himself to knowing that Scully didn’t want this either. Or the universe directed her better, what have you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But just as he was about to give it all up, go home, sulk for twenty four hours until he had to be off to work with a happy face once again, the little bell on the door jingled. A redhead walked in, and his head shot up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Seriously?” she asked. “I have to find you here?” </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“So, where’s Emily tonight?” Scully asked, crouched on the floor by the fireplace trying to get it to start. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s with a babysitter.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you trust this babysitter?” The match kept going out before she could light the kindling. He half wondered if this was just a ploy to keep her busy until he left. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, she’s the niece of a colleague. I did a background check and everything.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It finally lit, and Scully hopped up, and came back over to the couch. He watched the fire spread in the fireplace, growing slowly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“As far as this case goes, I’m going to do everything to get more information on it, but I tried bringing it up with my partner again, and she brushed it off.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder took a deep breath. “Is that normal for your… your partner?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully shook her head. “No. Normally she’s willing to hear me out far more than this. We’ve worked together for almost a year, and she’s never treated a case like this.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He bit his tongue, knowing any comment that would come out of his mouth was probably laced with pettiness that he didn’t have a right to have. “Well, just… be careful, I guess.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” She sunk lower into the cushion, perhaps slightly closer to him, if his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. “I’ll let you know if I get ahold of the original file, or that note you mentioned. It may take some work, but there has to be a copy somewhere.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I’m here, if you need anything.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked over at him, her eyes filled with… something. Trust? No, it was something that ran deeper.   </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I mean it,” he said, his voice getting lower and rougher. “I know I haven’t been, but I’m here now.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was it. The look in her eye- it was the same one she had that night… well, the night he’d been dismissed. Their last night together. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something in his chest stirred looking at her, and he could see her chest beginning to rise and fall unevenly. The fire cast a warm, red glow on her skin, her sweater’s low neckline suddenly noticeable. He flashed back to that night, remembering all at once how warm those lips had been, how good she’d felt pressed into the sofa beneath him. It had been a driving force, building and building and building, the last time they’d been alone like this. That look in her eye had almost been hungry, had almost been something of love. It had caught him like a fly in a trap, and in that moment of sudden heat, he missed how her expression had darkened, dampened. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know if I believe you,” she said quietly, and it almost broke him out of this trance. “So much has happened. Since you left… and really, before you left.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She watched the flames, letting the wheels in his brain spin. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you get my letter?” he asked quietly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He couldn’t believe after three years he never wondered. Did she read it? Or did it get caught up in the junk mail, and she just found him gone one day? How did Melissa not mention- </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I take it you read it.” He paused, expecting any response, but it didn’t come. “I take it it wasn’t enough.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He leaned back against the couch and breathed. “I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know.” She said it quietly, and when he turned, he found not an angry look, but a sad one. “I thought I could handle doing this- sitting here, catching up, but I don’t think I’m there yet.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He almost accepted that, but it didn’t sit right. “Why?” he asked, defeated. “I know it won’t be all better instantly, but we have to be making some progress, right?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She ground her teeth. “You weren’t there. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. After Melissa, I should have been there, but-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That wasn’t what I was talking about.” Her glare was like stone, and he felt a weight drop on him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said…” he started softly. “You said you’d forgiven me for that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That was before it was a pattern.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He put his face in his hands, processing again the guilt he’d shoved down for so long. His spiral was interrupted by the phone ringing, and Scully pulled it off the cradle and nudged his shoulder with it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s probably your babysitter,” she said softly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took it, not looking her in the eye, and answered. “Hello?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fox, she needs you,” was the answer, and the line went dead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stood abruptly, his pulse humming through his body. “I need to go, I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is everything alright?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He rushed around, finding his keys and jacket. “No, I have to get back to Emily.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He didn’t look back at her before he left. Half because of his past sin, half because he knew he had to leave before he could let it slip that for a moment, for a second, he could have sworn that voice on the other line was Melissa. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“You going to talk or should I?” Melissa asked, sitting down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stared at his swirling cup of coffee. It was too late for it, but he already knew he wouldn’t get up tomorrow morning anyway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It wasn’t all.” He thumbed the little coffee cozy, pushing it up and down the cup. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa?” the barista called, but she ignored him, not breaking eye contact. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, what is it? Really?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa.” The barista was glaring in her direction, and she huffed, and got up to retrieve her drink. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did Scully ever tell you why I got dismissed?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She thought about it, and shook her head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There was a case. Women kept disappearing, and showing up later without much of a clue what happened. We got involved after the fourth one. Turns out there was a suspect all of them had a connection to. Some guy running a lab downtown, it was a sure thing. He knew their schedules, their hours, where they lived. But when we went to interview him, he bolted, and we tracked him to a warehouse by the bay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He paused, and took a sip of his coffee, feeling his chest tightening. “I did something stupid. It looked empty when we got there, and because of the paranormal connection to the case, I wanted to follow up on some abductee leads, and I left her there to finish going over the place.” He tried to take a deep breath, but nothing would go down. “Turns out, one of the rooms had a fake back. We found her a few hours later, and she was fine. Checked her out at the hospital. ran every test there was. She had been conscious the full time, she’d been hurt, but was still okay. None of the health issues the other victims had But that didn’t change the fact she almost died- he had a gun, he-” He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “She was hurt, in danger, and all because I ran off and left her there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And so you solved the guilt about running off by running off?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He ground his teeth. “I just figured it was better… she shouldn’t rely on me if I do stuff like that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know what she would have thought about that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He still refused to look at her. “I was glad when they dismissed me. If they hadn’t, I would have requested it. When Skinner told me not to try anything to get back, I didn’t.” He tried swallowing the lump in his throat. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why are you here, Fox?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Because I do miss her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, why haven’t you walked down the street and talked to her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Because it’s best I stay away.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not, though.” Melissa leaned across the table, searching his eyes. “Dana has been going through so much- she <em>went</em> through so much. You said she hates you, but she doesn’t. She needs you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rose. “I’m going to see her. You should come too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head, and grounded his foot beneath the table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s only going to get harder the longer you wait.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked up, and for a moment, in the dim, cafe light, she wasn’t Melissa anymore. She was Scully. Their eyes were the same, and they beckoned him forth, but his feet remained rooted, and he broke the trance. His heart raced in his chest, and he hadn’t even seen the real her yet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bye Fox.” She said it soft, and backed away. It wasn’t the time to argue. She knew as much. He was still visible, even from Dana’s stoop, but minutes passed and there was nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa didn’t send her, she didn’t come on her own accord. He remained in an empty shop, until closing time, and he left alone.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the next part should be out mid/late next week!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      <em>“Fox, she needs you.” </em>
    </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Mulder raced home, wheels marking the pavement as he drove. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He leapt out of the car, not remembering if it was in park yet, jumped the fence, and ran upstairs to the apartment. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Emily,” he screamed, bursting through the door to find her on the floor… doing a puzzle. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She jolted at the loud sound, looking at him confused. “Mulder?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She ran over and hugged him hello, and he picked her up, finding her real and safe. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Everything alright?” Jill asked, bringing some tea to her stack of books on the couch. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yeah,” he breathed. “Yeah, I was just worried.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily giggled, tucking her head onto his shoulder. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You ready for bed?” he asked, setting her down on the ground. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She nodded, and skipped away. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Really,” Jill asked, quietly. “Is everything alright?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Did you call me?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What? No?" </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He grabbed the handset, and hit redial, listening to the ringing. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hello?” Scully answered. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Hey, it’s me. Is this your landline?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yeah,” she said, slowly. “Don’t you know that? You called me.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Just got it mixed up,” he said, and hung up. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Really, did you call me? At any point?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Jill looked as confused as he was. “No, I swear. I haven’t touched it all night.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He nodded. “Okay. Thanks for coming.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>He fumbled for his wallet and paid her, glad to be safe with Emily, behind a locked door. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>When he finally finished checking the bathroom, kitchen, and living room, he found Emily curled up in bed. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“You want a story?” he asked, checking the closet. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I don’t know.” She seemed really sleepy already. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Finding everything the way he left it, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Have you felt sick at all tonight?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She shook her head. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Are you sure?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She nodded. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Did anything happen while I was gone? Anyone knock on the door or any weird sounds?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She shook her head, again. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Okay,” he said. “Well, sleep well. G’night.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Mulder?” she asked, in a tiny, little voice. “What if I was sick?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Well, then we’d have to take you to the doctor, why?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She shrugged. “I don’t wanna go to the doctor.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>His brows furrowed. “Why not?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She scrunched up her mouth. “I don’t like it.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Another night he might have smiled, told her everyone hates the doctor’s office, and shots only hurt for a little while, but tonight, it felt off. “Well, maybe we could go see Dana instead. She’s a doctor, but the good kind.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily smiled. “Okay,” she said, finishing it with a yawn. “G’night.” “Good night, sweetie.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <hr/>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone rang as he finished changing from his work clothes and heating up leftovers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Scully asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitated, fork frozen halfway through twirling some spaghetti. “That call I got at your apartment, I think it came from here, but the babysitter didn’t call. When I checked the redial, your number came up. I’ve called other numbers since yours so it can’t be a coincidence.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you mean it came from there? I thought you had to get back to Emily.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did. I don’t know. The person who called just said she needed me. I thought it was Jill, but it was probably a wrong number or something.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you know who it might have been?” she asked, and when he didn’t answer, she followed: “Strange calls can be evidence in this kind of case… I’m sure you know that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, of course…” He toed the floor, not knowing if Melissa had told Dana that they knew each other. She’d said she wouldn’t- that last time. But a lot could have changed. “I thought it was, I don’t know, an old friend. But it’s not possible.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have you been in contact with them recently?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, they… it’s not possible.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully seemed to get the message, and stopped pushing. “Okay. Well, I just wanted to check. Is everything alright over there? Emily’s okay?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, she’s fine. I mean, she went to sleep without a hassle, so something could be terribly wrong, but right now, we’re doing just fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was almost certain she was smiling. At least, she would be if they were still in sync. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, I’m glad. I was worried.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wow, so does that mean you actually care if I’m alive or not?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a dicy comment, given how they’d left things. But if their partnership had been any evidence, the one thing they were good at is putting personal issues aside in rough situations. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eye roll was almost audible via cartoon slide whistle, but he’d take as many more seconds on the phone with her as he could get. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“More for Emily’s sake,” she mumbled. “But I’m glad you are too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled. “Listen, about earlier-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, really. I keep forgetting a blanket apology isn’t going to work. There’s a lot I need to make up for, and I’m going to. Each thing, individually. I promise.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you,” she managed, and let his promise, and the silence, settle over them both. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let me know if you turn anything up on that other girl, or the case.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course. Take care,” she said, softly, in the same tone she’d had their last phone call before he left. When he’d promised to talk, to see a movie, and didn’t. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was nearly certain she remembered that too. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“That was before it was a pattern.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This pattern, he would break.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>It was a cold, spring evening, winter just barely behind them. Dana walked home from the train station, a bag on her shoulder, a transfer assignment under her arm, postmarked March 6, 1992. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Despite the news, it had been a good day. The cafeteria still had fresh coffee when she got there. The trainee who’d been pestering her all semester had thrown up during a practice autopsy. She had her pick of seats on the ride home. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a normal Friday night. Nothing out of the ordinary. She’d get home just as the phone would be ringing. Her father would mention that he’d been calling all evening and if she’d started practicing, she’d have more control over her hours. He’d soften up as the call went on, and they’d laugh at the weak stomachs of sailors and students. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d prepare dinner, have a drink. Call Ellen while she prepared and eat in front of the Hitchcock marathon playing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All of that was a block away, when, out of nowhere, the door to a coffee shop swung open, and a woman nearly tackled her coming out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” she said, as Dana picked herself up, and dusted the gravel off her pants. “I’m so sorry-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her voice drifted off, just as Dana looked up to see who it was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa?” Her heart nearly gave out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her sister gave her a weak smile, and nodded. “Hey.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry about that, again,” Missy offered. “You’re actually the one I was looking for. I was going to check your door again, I didn’t even recognize you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dana took two steps back, breathing more and more shallow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I like your hair,” she said, wringing her hands nervously. “It’s different, but it suits you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dana shook her head slowly, not even believing what stood in front of her. “You’ve been gone for three years, and you’re talking about my hair now?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa’s weak smile persisted. “I just wanted to talk to you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve had my number.” Her voice was getting deeper, angrier. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana, come on. You know why I left, can you just hear me out?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hadn’t expected to feel this way. This anger, it hadn’t been present in three years, but now it seemed to have been building up in the background all along. “You left.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Missy looked at her feet. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You left. One conversation and that’s it. Three years? You could have called. I wouldn’t have told Mom and Dad. You just left me to deal with them alone, even when Dad was sick, and then came Bill, and his damn wife, and med school, and all my friends moving on and having kids. At the very least, you could have sent me a card once in a while.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turned around and started walking away, furious enough to do something stupid, like call their mother. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana, wait-“ Missy called, following behind at a distance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she got to her apartment stoop, she raced up the stairs, and into the apartment, wanting to just close the door and cool down. But like she should have expected, Melissa followed her in, and shut the door behind her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Leave me alone,” Dana said, dropping her things in the entry way, and making her way through the apartment to the bedroom. Melissa didn’t follow her in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She locked the door, and kicked off her shoes and clothes, going into the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. Hopefully, Missy would get the picture, and leave. But she should have known better. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she emerged, pajama clad and toasty, Melissa had made camp on her couch, with a take-away pizza and a pack of Red Vines. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Remember when you got homesick your first year at school?” she asked. “And I intercepted your call home, drove all night, and brought you this?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled her eyes and sat down next to her. “I also remember you reading my diary every day, and telling Mom I was the one who stole her cigarettes to distract from you not getting into college.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All I’m hearing is that we need each other.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dana leaned forward and took a slice of the truce pizza. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry I just left.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You had your reasons,” she said quietly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I do. And believe me, Dana, if you knew the whole story… you may not forgive me but you’d understand. I just can’t talk a lot about what happened.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked over at her, dubious. “You know, I am a federal agent. If you have to confess something…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shut up.” Melissa took a piece. “You’re not even in the field.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She leaned over the couch, and sighed. “Well, actually…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The transfer form was sticking out, and she handed it over. “This is part of why I was so pissed earlier.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The X-Files?” Melissa read. “What is that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Some bullshit department. One guy, who has a reputation for being a joke.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shrugged. “I dunno, it could be cool. And maybe this guy is going to be an important person in your life.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dana chewed on the crust of her pizza. “Doubtful. I’m hoping to transfer to something better. Ditch him as soon as possible.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Despite her groveling, Melissa’s nose turned up, judging without admitting it. “I just think you should be more open. More understanding, more forgiving-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is about you, isn’t it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her face was almost dark, almost sad, like there was something more to her reappearance than just her desire to settle. But she broke out of it, and smiled. “Maybe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Perhaps it was the pizza, or the shower, or the fact that above anything else, she’d missed her sister so much, but Dana started to warm. Missy slept on her couch for the next two weeks, and not a word was uttered to their parents. Later, she found an apartment nearby, and started taking care of things while Dana was off on assignment.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One night, she called her from the motel. Maybe it was the case, or what Mulder had gone through. Maybe it was just the look in the little boy’s eye when his sister had been returned, but she mumbled an “I’m sorry” into the receiver. And an “I forgive you”. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa returned the sentiment, almost giving it all away. She fell back against Dana’s couch, listening to the case details and trying not to let on how she felt. In her pocket, she retrieved a small, wallet-size photo, and stared at it longingly.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But regardless of who was right, I’m just glad the girl’s safe,” Dana said.</p>
  <p>Melissa took a moment to find her voice again, but she did, slowly folding the photograph back up and putting it back in her pocket. “Yeah, I’m just glad she’s safe, too.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>The day had been building to something. Melissa knew it, deep inside her. Ever since she got the rejection letter, as cold and professional as she could have predicted, the world seemed off. Everything was in fluorescent and grey, there was no warm light. Instead of arguing with her manager, she let it pass right over her head. Instead of making small talk with customers and coworkers, she stayed gravely silent, running simulation after simulation over and over in her head.</p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d be noticed before she got there. They’d see her name on travel logs, or plane manifests. They had people everywhere, that’s why she hadn’t told Dana, not yet. But now she was considering it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She could drive, she supposed, but where to get a car with no record tracing it to her? Digging her fifteen-year-old fake ID out of her mother’s garage would require actually calling her. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She had arrived to work half an hour late, not caring about the consequences. That evening, she left sixteen minutes early, that same cloud around her head as she carried herself out the door with a fistful of the tip jar in hand. Sue her, she knew she wasn’t coming back from that. No, she had to leave. She had to get out to the desert and fast. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>They couldn’t just deny her visitation. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>It was time. Dana had to know.</p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <hr/>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>She left work for Dana’s apartment, having everything she needed on her: keys, wallet, ID, cash. Nothing else mattered, and she had to get out there. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Head foggy, hands shaking, she climbed the steps, ready to tell her everything, and was greeted by an empty apartment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana?” she called out, running from room to room like they were playing Hide-and-Seek again. “Dana?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was eery being there without her, and she quickly turned on all the lights and found the phone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She picked up after two calls, as Melissa anxiously tapped her foot against the floor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, sorry, I can’t talk right now,” she hissed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, you need to. Where are you and when will you be home?” Whatever it was, it wasn’t more important than this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Providence,” Dana said. “I’ll be back Tuesday-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Rhode Island? No, you need to come back tonight.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>On the other end, she heard shuffling, and it was a few seconds before Dana answered. “Okay, what are you talking about?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You need to come back tonight, I need to talk to you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is everything alright? What is going on?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She felt herself start to shake, like she was a little kid again. “I just need you to come back. I’ll explain when you get here, but it’s important, I swear. I don’t know what else to do.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Dana’s voice was calming, and for a second she started to relax. “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’m walking out the door right now. Where are you? Are you in immediate danger?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m at your place, and no. I’m not.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, if I can’t get a flight I’ll drive it. It’s… it’s almost 8 now, I should be home just after 2am, if not sooner. Just lock the doors, eat something. I’ll call you with a plan as soon as I can. Just relax.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa pressed a hand to her stomach and tried to breathe deep. “Okay,” she said, quietly, and let Dana hang up first. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stayed still, phone still in hand, for several moments. The clock on the kitchen wall ticked loudly, outside traffic slowed with the end of the evening. There was a part of her that knew this fear was illogical. That she wasn’t the target. That nothing was going to happen. That all she had to worry about was outside, and here there was a safe-haven. But still, she felt uncertain. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took a seat on Dana’s sofa, and lit a candle, letting vanilla and coconut fill the room. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The day before, when the letter was slipped under her door, she’d panicked. She ran out into the hallway, finding nothing but her neighbor Alice returning from her run. They’d only had mild conversations before, the laundry room, the elevator. Certainly not comfortable enough a relationship to warrant her rushing her in the hallway, frantically getting her attention before she could even take her walkman off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is this?” she’d asked, waving the letter, but all she got back was a look of confusion. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This was slipped under my door, who did it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Alice shook her head, leaning around to see if anyone else was out there. “Maybe check with the building manager or the paper boy? Maybe it was an admirer.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her light chuckle did nothing to relieve the tension. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took all day to bring her down from that anger. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Your visitation is denied, Ms. Scully. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Per your agreement, you should know what a violation of this denial means. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Damn their denial. She felt it burning in her breast pocket, and she shoved her coat off, and threw it on Dana’s couch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stomped around a bit, angry and not knowing how to show it. Normally, she was the calm one, this was uncharted territory. She blew out Dana’s candle and kicked the coffee table. She was always played off as the calm one. The relaxed to Dana’s uptight. She shoved the table further. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And just as she was getting guilty about moving Dana’s things out of place, a knock came to the door, and her heart rate spiked again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Just lock the doors,” Dana had said. </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She couldn’t remember now if she had. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Cautiously, she approached the door, glancing out the peephole in terror. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And just as quickly as it had come, the panic dissipated. She was distracted for a moment, on the verge of amused, and she swung the door open. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Again, really?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s not here is she?” Mulder groaned. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>She was clearly anxious, but Mulder can’t figure out why. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s not here, but she’ll be back in a few hours. You want to come in?” she asked, wavering unbalanced in the doorway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa? Are you alright?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes darted around, hands shook at her side, but she crossed them over her chest, and nodded. “Yeah, fine. Just a little freaked out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was about to ask why, but she forced a smile and looked him up and down. “You want to come in? Let me tell you all the reasons why this outfit isn’t going to win Dana over.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He could tell she needed company, so he nodded, and smiled assuringly, following her inside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You want some tea?” she asked, moving around Scully’s kitchen like it was her own. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pulled the basket out of the cupboard and set it on the table. “Have your pick.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully had nearly every tea imaginable, and some he’d never heard of. There were a couple unmarked tins, each containing a handful of tea bags that all looked the same, and smelled drastically different. In the end, he went with a safe, English Breakfast tea that she wouldn’t even miss. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa carried two piping mugs to the table, and grabbed the tray of sweeteners. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“When’s she going to be back?” he asked, trying to distract from the near-empty honey bottle making an ungodly sound. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s six hours away.” The floor shook beneath them, and he glanced down to see her bouncing her leg nervously on the floor. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallowed hard, and didn’t meet his eye. “Yeah. Just a lot going on. And I’m not used to needing my baby sister so much.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really-“ he started. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s nothing.” She paused a second, and then admitted quietly. “Something’s going on with... someone I know. I needed Dana’s help and I’m just worried. But it’s all going to be fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She breathed through a couple tears, and he stayed quiet, letting her have some peace. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You want to-“ he started, about to finish with ‘talk about it.’ But he looked at her, quietly downing hot tea like it was nothing, and he edited it. “You want to tell me where I went wrong?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t move. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled at his tie, and waved it around. “This was fifty bucks, and I saw a swimsuit model wearing it in the catalogue so I know it’s not out of style.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa’s face finally broke into a small smile. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, what gives? I mean, before she comes back and I humiliate myself.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana isn’t impressed by that kind of thing. Honestly, you could wear a t-shirt and jeans, and her chances of forgiving you would be about the same. You need to do more than just dress fancy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded at the flowers on the entryway table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, those… wouldn’t be good either?” He asked it slowly, gauging her reaction with every word. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiled. “Nah, she’d hate them. You should just give them to me and go with something else.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Something tells me that you are a little biased.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re really pretty. I like them, though I do prefer to grow my own.” Her leg stopped bouncing for a moment as she looked over at them. “Why white tulips?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re supposed to symbolize forgiveness.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Melissa smirked. “Okay, I actually thought Dana would like them up until that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Too mushy?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Too mushy. She’s not into that symbolism stuff like me, or I take it, you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, and fiddled with the tea string. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, jeans and a t-shirt. That’s the way to go?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shrugged. “I don’t think she’d hate the suit, but you can’t let it do all the talking. Speaking of which, I’m guessing you had a long boring speech planned.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She paused, and waited, but not long enough for him to formulate a lie. “Exactly. that’s not going to help. You just need to lay it all out there. Be completely honest, apologize, and then work to figure it out. Don’t waste her time with meaningless words about fate, or whatever. She won’t care.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It wasn’t about fate,” he mumbled. “But you’re probably right.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m definitely right.” There was a whisper of a smile on her face, but she buried it in her tea. “I’m really glad you’ve decided to work things out with her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled. “Me too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just promise me, you’ll actually go through with it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, and rolled his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, in an effort for full honesty, are you going to tell me more about this someone you know?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How bad could it be?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t meet his eye. “It’s not about how bad it is. I’m just worried, that’s all.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She had the same look Samantha used to have, whenever she was scared. Eyes darting around, wouldn’t let anyone see how freaked out she was. Suddenly, his big brother mode was activated, and he kicked her under the table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gave him a glare, hooded by her brow. “It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, we have to kill some time before Scully gets back, so you might as well tell me. Besides, who am I going to tell?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed. “It started during the three years I wasn’t speaking to Dana either. Did you know about that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took a deep breath. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Around ’88, I decided to go back to school on the West Coast. I was looking for something in teaching or nursing- something I could do to have an impact on people that wasn’t just selling special teas and stones.” She trailed a finger through a water drop on the table absently. “I wasn’t on great terms with my family at the time. Dad was angry that I had waited so long to go back, Mom was angry I was going so far. Dana and I were still good, but enough was enough, and I cut them off. Just stopped returning their calls, and letters. My brother Bill showed up and I had my roommate pretend I had moved. The kicker was when I didn’t come home for the holidays.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wow,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I really liked being on my own, though. I missed Dana a lot, but it was nice to not have all that to deal with. The following spring, I started working at a daycare. The hours worked with my schedule, it was fun playing with the kids. But it definitely wasn’t the most high-profile place in the city, but regardless, it was nice to work at. I had a lot of coworkers who I really got along with, especially this woman named Eileen. She was a nurse for some fertility clinic, but did volunteering with us. And one day, we get a new preschooler, and Eileen is really protective of her, and I could tell there was something more-" </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was cut off by the shrill of a phone ringing. It took a moment to realize it was him, but Mulder pulled it out of his pocket, and glanced at the screen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you have to take it?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitated, wanting to hear her continue the story, but knowing, deep down, he did. “Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s a patient’s mother- just give me one second, I swear.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, and waved to him like it was fine. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He got up quickly, and stepped into Scully’s bathroom to answer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mary, hi, is everything alright?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mr. Mulder?” she asked, voice sounding staticky and far away. “Are you there?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He got closer to the window. “Yeah, I am, can you hear me?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mr. Mulder?” she asked, again, but he was certain that she’d heard him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is everything ok, Mary?” he asked, and the line went dead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Confused, he examined his phone, trying to see lack of service or battery. But just as he was about to try her back, a gunshot echoed through the apartment, and his head whipped around. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa?” he yelled, rushing out to the kitchen. “Melissa?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was screaming now, praying she’d come crawling out of the safety of Scully’s closet, when he saw it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At first, it was nothing but what looked in the darkness to be water. But it was darker, thicker, and carefully, he moved towards it, towards the entryway. And suddenly, his voice fell silent.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>The ambulance arrived in what was an eternal eight minutes. He’d been holding down the wound, her blood staining his hand. They pushed him away when they got to her, doing what they could onsite, and taking her out to the ambulance as quickly as they could. In a blur, he grabbed some things, his flowers off the table, her jacket off the back of the couch. He didn’t know if she’d need any of it, but he brought it anyway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They didn’t let him in the ambulance, and he followed tightly behind in his car. He parked as quickly as he could, and followed them in, but there was only so much they could do. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A nurse stopped him just outside the operating room doors, telling him they’d do their best, but he couldn’t follow any further. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Needing to do something, rather than just wait around, he ended up back at Scully’s apartment. The FBI was all over it, and somehow didn’t notice the dazed man wandering through. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, you can’t be here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you find them?” he demanded. “Did you find the people who did this?" </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The agent looked surprised. “We’re doing our best, sir,” he said, slowly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder drew a shaky breath. “You need to find them. She knew… she knew something would happen, and I left her alone.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He crumpled onto the couch, and put his head in his hands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sir, you really can’t be here. I suggest you go back to the hospital and wait for your friend.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He swallowed hard, and didn’t look up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you call her family?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We haven’t received their names yet-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maggie Scully, and Dana Scully. The numbers are both on the fridge. You need to tell them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What the hell is he doing here?” a voice boomed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder didn’t even have to turn around to know who it was. He took a moment, pulling himself together, before standing up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, Skinner.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Skinner glared at him in return. “What the hell happened? Why are you here?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stumbled past him, towards the door. “Ask the agent by the fridge, I told him everything. Good to see you by the way.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His car was welcome silence, and he collapsed into it, pressing his forehead against the steering wheel. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A string of curses where exhaled, and one last time, he glanced back at Scully’s apartment. His car was a hotbed of rotting takeout and psychology books. He’d spent so long telling himself that he’d traded up, that his life now was worth the painful break. He’d come there tonight to apologize to Scully, thinking that it was to redeem himself for the pain he’d caused her. But here he sat, like just like two years before, amidst takeout and home work. The only difference was the empty passenger seat, once containing Scully, now containing her wounded sister’s jacket, and flowers that were meant to be happy. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>He ended up back at the hospital, camped on the floor outside those doors he’d been stopped at. He was there, longer than he could have counted, cradling the flowers and waiting for a cot to roll by with familiar red hair. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But it never came. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hours ticked by, and the hospital quieted. Somewhere around what he assumed was midnight, he gave up on Melissa being returned this way, and returned to the front desk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Room 416B. Random number, for just another random patient. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It nearly took out his knees when he walked in. Her face, her chest, her arms, everything was bandaged or tucked under her warm blankets. His jaw bobbed, facing, once again, how bad her wounds really were. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It felt wrong to take her hand, but wrong, too, to keep his distance. He’d thought it was bad, never finding out about Samantha. But he couldn’t imagine how breaking it would be for the answer to be this. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knew he couldn’t leave, and he broke his gaze to turn around and find a chair, only to come face to face with Maggie Scully. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>“What the hell are you doing here?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He found Maggie Scully silhouetted by the hall light, seeming far taller than he’d remembered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was at Dana’s waiting to see her with Melissa when it happened,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“I meant, what are you doing here?” </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was worried,” he said. “I just wanted to see how she was doing." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Maggie’s eyes bore with pure, visceral hatred, and she stepped closer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t have any right to be worried. This is because of you, you know.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He swallowed hard, knowing in his gut it probably was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You infected my daughter with outrageous beliefs, and then when she needed you most, you left her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was dismissed from the Bureau, it wasn’t my choice.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You should have had her back. Maggie’s voice was rising, and she threw the jello cup she was holding on the table, not caring the mess it made. “You should have looked out for her. You left knowing how ridiculous this X-Files work is- that’s the reason you cut all contact, isn’t it? You left her to become obsessed with it like you. And because of that, she never had a partner to look out for her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He felt his insides crumple like a can. “I’m sorry,” he said, words coming out like he was gasping for air. “I didn’t want her to get hurt.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, she is. Two years, she’s just spiraled further into this nonsense. Beyond the realm of rationality. She should be promoted by now! She should be making something of herself, maybe even married, but she’s just digging deeper into this job, and now her sister, my daughter, is lying in a hospital bed, shot, because of you. You let this happen.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana made her own choices-“ he started, but Maggie just looked at him like she would rip his head off with another word. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That doesn’t mean anything,” Maggie said, and he nearly corrected her that he was talking to Melissa. “Just get out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I just wait for Dana?” he begged. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She wouldn’t want to see you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was struck motionless for a moment, then forced himself to nod, and tail between his legs, he took a step to drop the flowers on her side table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked back at her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t leave those there. I don’t want them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re for-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just take them and get out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He walked out of the hospital against all better judgement. Part of him wanted to sit out in the waiting room until Scully came in. But if that’s the reaction of Maggie, he couldn’t imagine how she would feel. He couldn’t make things worse. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He left, the darkness enveloping him as he walked down the street. It would have taken a bomb to break him out of that trance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He found his car about three blocks away, remembering that hours ago he hadn’t found a parking spot in the hospital lot. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He dropped into the car, feeling everything weighing him down. He threw the now-crumpled white tulips on the floor. He shifted the car into drive, missing it the first time, only making him more angry. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was a mile away from home, when he glanced in the passenger seat for the first time, and realized Melissa’s jacket was still there. For a moment, he considered going back. Enduring the wrath of Maggie and Scully. But he didn’t want to make it harder than it already was. A single jacket wouldn’t make a difference. And he could return it later. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His apartment was cold when he reached it, but he closed the door, knowing it was safe. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gently set the jacket in a box in his hall closet, and proceeded to the kitchen sink to wash the hours-old dried blood off his hands. He was chipping it from beneath his fingernails, when it broke him. He braced himself against the counter, and shook. He could barely process what had happened, let alone what was his doing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He managed to drag himself into the shower and curl up at the base. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before, when Melissa had told him about her clean break, the questions had built up in his head, but he’d wanted her to finish uninterrupted. The one that festered throughout the night stuck with him now. He pulled himself out of the shower, and dripping wet and naked, he collapsed into bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Was it worth it?” he had wanted to ask. “Not talking to Dana for so long? Even if you got the change you’d looked for?” </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knew the answer though, not even having to hear Melissa say it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No. It definitely wasn’t worth it. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>He found Melissa’s obituary in the paper, a few days later. It was written in a familiar, clinical style he could have identified off three words. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a cold, foggy morning, the day of the service. He’d watched the procession from fifty yards, certain Maggie wouldn’t want him closer. Certain that he shouldn’t make a scene. It wasn’t his day. It was hers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a long time before everyone left. He could pick Scully out of the crowd easily, being comforted by two taller men. Her brothers, he figured. They were the last to leave, and he waited until they were gone to approach. Each broken step felt wrong, like he shouldn’t be there. Like he was breaking the rules. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry,” he started saying, ten feet still to go. “I shouldn’t have taken the call, I should have connected the dots. I should have made up with Scully before now, so you could see it. Maybe things would have turned out differently, and I’m so sorry they didn’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The stone was really cold, and he rested a hand on the top while he gathered his thoughts. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know a lot of people love you, I could definitely see that today, and I’m sure there’s even more. But I want to thank you as well. I really needed a friend, when you showed up. I just wish I could have seen more of you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He searched his pockets, suddenly remembering what he’d brought. “You seem to be pretty flush on flowers. And I know you told me that you prefer to grow and tend your own.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled out a small bag of seeds and bulbs. “I had a nursery in Baltimore put this together. I wasn’t really listening to the growing instructions, so I guess whatever takes, takes.” He sprinkled it all around. “I know I already promised you that I would make things better with Dana, but I’ll do it again. I mean, I don’t know if she’ll ever talk to me. With your mother was as pissed as she was, I can’t imagine Scully. But I will. I’ll make things right.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took him over a year, but he returned eventually with good news. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know a bouquet is customary,” he said. “But this time I brought tea.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He set one mug down on her stone, and clinked it with his. “I even bought the fancy stuff that doesn’t have a string and a fun fact on it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He took a deep breath, and a sip of his drink. “So, it’s been a while. I figured I probably shouldn’t show my face around here until I’d made things right with Dana. I’m not big on religious-clouds-pearly gate stuff, but I also didn’t want to risk you sending a lightning bolt my way if I hadn’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve started making things right with Dana. I mean, she’s still pretty furious with me, and I don’t think we’re close to ‘better’. But we’re talking. I’m going over there tonight, and taking your advice. I’m not even wearing a suit this time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sipped his cup, not sure what else to do. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess I just wanted to give you an update. And thank you for the advice. I know a lot of what happened that night was unavoidable. But I am still sorry...” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His voice drifted off as he looked down, suddenly noticing what had been growing around the base of her stone. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Surrounding it, were tall, white flowers; the only type of the mix he’d planted that survived. White tulips. Forgiveness. </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>In the desert out west, a little girl sat bolt upright. The morning was dry, the air was hot. Her antique bed squeaked and she leapt onto the cold tile floor. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Is she here yet?” she asked, running out into the kitchen. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Oh, are you excited about her coming?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She immediately remembered the tough-guy persona she was trying to adopt. “No. I was just wondering." </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The caregiver smiled in return. “Well, she’s not here yet, silly. It’s still early.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She ignored her words and her new attitude, and excitedly ran towards the entry window. Every time, this was where she planted herself. Staring out at the driveway, waiting for the gate to open. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>It was the same routine every time. After twenty minutes standing, she’d drag a kitchen chair over. She’d request to be served Meal 1 there. And somewhere in the mid-morning, she would show up. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her lessons were skipped on Visiting Day, but behind her, she could hear the caretaker typing on a computer. She swiveled in her seat, and leaned her chin on the back of the chair. “What’re you doing?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Writing.” She got a warm, assuring smile back. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Writing what?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“A report. You wouldn’t be interested.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She huffed, and turned back around. She pressed her feet against the window, just like she’d been told not to do, and listened to the soft beeping that came of it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Stop it,” the caregiver barked, and she huffed again. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She brought her feet back, and the beeping stopped. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“When’s she going to get here?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Not for a while.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>As if on cue, a knock came to the door, and a paper slid underneath it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She knew better than to reach for it, and simply waited for the caregiver to retrieve it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What is it?” she asked. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>It took a moment for a response, but in a passive voice, she eventually replied: “Melissa isn’t joining us this time.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Her entire body went slack for a moment, before she remembered their lesson on self-control and anger. “What do you mean?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“She’s… sick. And she won’t be able to come.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She followed the caregiver into the kitchen. “But it’s visiting day. Do I have to wait till next year?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Yes. Now, go get dressed in your uniform. I’ll have your first meal prepared in a moment.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Fists hanging at her side, she stomped back into her room. This anger would diminish to just a passing thought in the back of her mind in the coming hours, days, weeks, as she practiced her lessons. Next year, when Melissa showed up, she would just get to be even more excited. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But for now, she just did as she was told. Got dressed bitterly. Ate bitterly. Learned bitterly. All the while trying to ignore the special little box she’d been told to save for something else.</p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>There was a point when Scully almost forgave him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d ditched her, time and time again, during the hardest points of her life. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That night she got taken, the first time. She’d said she was fine after, knowing how doting he could be. But this was different. He withdrew once she’d given him permission. He barely spoke during the hearing, during the car ride, during that night. She’d wanted to fall asleep on his couch, but after a week of missed calls and dodged questions, he drops a bomb on her and mentions love. She guessed that she left first, that second time. If you want to get technical, point fingers, toss the blame, she did. She panicked and ran, and the sweatshirt she stole from him was still buried in her bed covers three years later, but his leaving, just days after, that was the one that was permanent. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That was the second time he left. He gave her a note that said sorry, and a bunch of other things that proved he wasn’t. She’d wanted to fight it originally, but that cold part of being left is not having the opportunity to. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He went somewhere, and she thought she’d see him in two weeks or never again. She was wrong on both. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Third time it was outside the hospital, the night her sister died. He was marching down the sidewalk in a daze, but at the very least she expected him to look up. She couldn’t tell where he came from, or where he was going. It was a rare sighting that in the chaos about to ensue, she’d chalk up to another X-File. Case of the Missing Mulder. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother’s panicked phone call shocked her out of her daze, and once she saw him disappear around the corner, she managed to find her feet again, and stumble out of the car, inside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a long night, made worse by her mother. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“You could have told me she was here sooner.” </em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“This career of yours did this.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“You should have left too.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When it happened, her passing, she was left alone in the empty room. Her mother went to fill out paperwork, and she sat in the dark praying Mulder would show back up. He mistook the building for a mall, he needed to use the bathroom. Just something to bring him here. She promised to let it all go, forgive him completely, if so. After all, he was the only friend she’d ever had who would understand this situation. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that was it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He never came back. Until he did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When it happened, for good this time, she’d been so torn. She wanted him back. But she was still furious. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But as time went on, as they were forced to talk more, she slowly started feeling more for him. He wasn’t this black-and-white, hot-or-cold person that she’d been angry with for years. He was the same man she’d loved so deeply, her friend above anything else, who had depth. And it was harder to be angry with him for leaving, when it felt so good to have him around. Especially, as she realized more and more, what she’d been lacking in a partner. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’d been taking cases closer to home, sending Murphy on the ones she couldn’t get to, so she could dig around on the Cutler case in her free time without alerting Kersh. But there was little headway that could be found. Whoever was burying this case did a good job of it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even the security camera footage, the day Emily saw that man in the supermarket, had already been claimed and wiped. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So, at the end of the day, there was little to go on. A girl was abandoned with a psychologist while her parents skipped town, and suddenly, after a month or two, one of them shows up and seems to want her back. And to make it stranger, according to the report she was given, that wasn’t even the right little girl. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even worse, there was little she could contact Mulder about, either. She really wanted to talk to him. Work this out. Some of what he’d done, she knew wasn’t intentional. Not noticing her that night, especially. She wanted to get past this, but everything with them now had an element of professionalism. And she knew she couldn’t call for no reason. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That is, until he did just that. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Their fight the week before had struck a chord with him and he couldn’t get it out of his head. It took a day of thinking, but she was right. It had become a pattern. Proving the pattern had stopped was one thing, but there was also making up for the past as well. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gave himself twelve hours to get up the guts and call her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He asked to come over that night and talk a bit. She’d almost seemed happy, but he let the hope that she actually was go. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He left Emily with Jill, leaving two packets of hot chocolate out as a reward for her behavior, and drove over, precious cargo in tow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder, hi,” she said, opening the door. She seemed softer than any time he’d seen her, and he took it as a good sign, even though he was about to throw a live grenade into it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She led him through the apartment to the couch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t stay long, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her brow furrowed, and she nodded, patting beside her to get him to sit down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I just want to say I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you. Back when we were partners, back when we weren’t. And especially after Melissa." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He hesitated, knowing what he was about to bring out would change their whole dynamic, but Melissa’s words floated back to him. Better now than later. And he pulled out her jacket. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don't know how much you knew about me and Melissa-" </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You and Melissa?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was surprised she didn’t know, but he quickly clarified. “She came and found me a couple weeks before she died. She was really adamant about you and I working things out and was trying to encourage me to do it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The restrained happiness faded from her face, and revealed everything beneath it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You knew her?” she asked in a quiet, hurt voice . </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” He wanted to ask if she knew anything about it, but the look on her face told him everything. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took the jacket from him, and ran a finger over the seams. “This was hers, wasn’t it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was with her that night. I came over here to talk to you and make things right, but she was here. She said you were on your way back and I could talk to you then, but she clearly was upset and scared so I stayed. We had some tea, she told me how to make things up to you. Told me a little about her life but we mostly talked about you. But I got a call from a patient and had to take it into another room. I don’t know what happened. One second, everything was fine, and then I heard one gunshot and she was down. I called an ambulance, and had them call you. I rode behind them to the hospital, and waited there until she was done." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why did you leave?” she asked, her voice watery. “I saw… I was there after she came out of surgery, but you weren’t.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He wrung his hands together in his lap. “Your mother told me to. She told me…” He sighed. “She told me a lot of things, and I left for the best. Or what I thought was the best." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What did she say to you?” she asked, her voice tightening. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It's nothing," he began, but he could tell she wasn’t going to let it go. “She told me it was my fault for getting you into it, and for leaving you behind. I told her that you made your own choices but she did have a point- I shouldn’t have left. You had every right to not want me there. Both of you." </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was sitting eerily still, clutching her sisters jacket, and staring at the fire in the fireplace. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Scu-‘ he began, but stopped himself. He let the silence settle over them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a long time before either moved. She stared at the fire. He stared at her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After a while, she got up silently, and took her glass to the sink to wash it. She didn’t speak again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m gonna go,” he said, quietly, and she didn’t respond. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He loitered by the door, wondering if she was going to ask him back, or yell at him to go out. This was far from the reaction he was expecting. But eventually, he stepped out into the cold hallway, pausing for a moment, and closing the door behind him. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>It didn’t fix everything. But it did soften things. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d wanted to fix this a year ago. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he waited a year to do it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d been there to help her sister when she needed him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But he hadn’t been there for her when she did too. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t have words. She could barely comprehend anything after holding Missy’s jacket again. It still smelled like that organic soap store she used for every birthday gift. It was the jacket of someone who was living. Who had travelled. Who had worn it down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She felt tears roll down her face, reliving that horrible night all over again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a couple weeks, but she found herself dialing again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mom?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana? Is everything alright?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took her a second to pull herself together to answer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. I was just thinking. About Melissa.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I talked to Mulder.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her mother was silent. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He, uh, he said he was with her when she got hurt. And he went to the hospital with her too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I believe so.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He said he left because you told him to.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was a long pause, but she let it simmer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did,” Maggie said. “Dana, you have to understand what I was going through-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You blamed her death on him. You told him I didn’t want him there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You wouldn’t have.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You don’t know what I would have wanted.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I apologized to Fox when I saw him last month. I’m sorry I assumed, but Dana, you can’t just start a fight that’s over a year old.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She ground her teeth, and replied softly: “I needed him there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And she hung up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It definitely didn’t fix everything. But it sure as hell got better for him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She held the jacket tighter, and ran her hands over it. She felt around the seams, over the collar, in the pockets. And suddenly, her heart nearly stopped again.</p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>In the desert out west, the girl rose once again with unmatched excitement. The last visiting day, Melissa had been sick, and couldn’t come, but this time, she had to. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She jumped out of bed, ignored her uniform hanging on the rack, and raced out into the living area to the window. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are you doing?” the caregiver asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She danced by the window, looking back and forth so quickly it made her head feel funny. “I’m waiting for Melissa, it’s visiting day!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The caregiver sighed, and extended her arm, herding her back towards the main room. “Melissa’s not coming anymore. Go put on your uniform.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turned around horrified, and planted her feet stubbornly. “What do you mean she’s not coming anymore? She has to.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The caregiver knelt to her height, and without any emotion replied: “Melissa died. Last year, when she was sick. It’s sad, but we have work to do, so you’ll need to focus.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rose again, and nudged her towards her room. She went, stumbling. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Door closed, she fell back against it, and let herself cry into her arms and knees. They’d learned about Death six months ago. The broad concept, the neurotransmitter reactions, the various religious ideologies around the afterlife. But none of that held up in the face of it for real. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She heard a knock on the other side of the door, and the booming voice reminding her of her uniform. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, just a minute,” she said, wiping her tears. But when she stood, she didn’t go for the rack with her clothes, but to her bed frame. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Hidden beneath it, she’d placed Melissa’s Magic Box, still unopened. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She remembered her telling her to only use it if needed. If there was ever a time she needed it, it was now. But it took all of her self control not to open it. It wasn’t the time. There were too many watching her. And so she slipped it back under her mattress, and started to get dressed. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>He was home to relieve Jill of her duties around nine, read Emily a story, and tucked her in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a confusing night, and he didn’t want to dwell on it. For the first time in his life, his body agreed, and he fell asleep quickly on the couch, the late night news rolling softly in front of him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But around midnight, he awoke to a little finger prodding his shoulder and a pounding at the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Someone’s here,” Emily pleaded in a quiet whisper. “What’s going to happen?”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He was groggy, but managed to pull himself off the couch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s okay. Go back into the bedroom,” he said. “Close the door.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She obeyed, racing back. He gave her an extra few seconds before carefully approaching the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who is it?” he asked, trying to sound authoritative. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s me.” She was quiet, but he knew it was her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He opened the door a crack, confirming his assumption. Scully stood in pajamas and sneakers, and so close to the door, she was nearly hugging the wall. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Scully?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I come in?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, sure, of course.” He stepped to the side, and let her in. He locked the door behind her. “I need to let Emily know it’s okay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did I scare her?” she asked, worried. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“More of just startling us.” He went back into the bedroom, and found her little feet sticking out from under the bed. “Emily, you can come out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There was some shuffling, like a gopher burrowing, and out the other side, her head popped out. “Everything’s okay?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yep, it’s just Dana.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her face lit up. “Can I see her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighed. “You can wave to her, but you need to get some sleep and I need to talk to her about grown up stuff, okay?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled her eyes, but nodded, and raised a hand so he could pull her out from under there, and swing her around till her feet planted near the doorway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hi Dana!” she waved. Scully waved back, worried face breaking for a moment, long enough to wave back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alright, you got your wave. Time for bed.” He picked her up again, and tossed her onto a mound of pillows. “Eyes shut, okay?” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh-kay.” She huffed, but curled up and squished her eyes closed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled, and closed the door behind him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sorry about that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gestured to the couch and followed her to sit. “So, what’s going on? Not that I don’t like seeing you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She gave him a small smile. There was something on the tip of her tongue that she seemed to want to say. But something else seemed more important, and she changed her mind. \</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was going through Melissa’s jacket and I found something.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She unfolded it from under her arm, and reached into the inner pocket. She handed him a folded picture, and he opened it to see the fake Emily Cutler from the police file. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s the fake photo of Emily?” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not the same copy. Flip it over.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Like the other photograph, it had a name and a date. The photo was still taken in 1995. But instead of it being changed to “Emily Cutler”, it was apparently the original. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Her name is Anne?” he read, looking back at Scully. “No last name either. Do you know anything about her?" </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked just as confused as he did, and shook her head. “But Melissa clearly did. That’s her handwriting.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He stared at it, flipping it over to get a good look at the girl again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And I found this as well.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pulled a folded paper out of another pocket. “It doesn’t tell us much. It’s just a rejection for some kind of visitation- I assume of that girl, Anne. But look at this.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She handed the paper to him, and pointed at the bottom. Signed, were the letters MFC, in a familiar monogram design. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“MFC,” he mumbled. “Where have I seen it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Minerva Fertility Consults. That was the company the doctor worked for our last case… the case you were dismissed for.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced up at her, flashing back for a moment to that night. They’d busted in after she went missing, finding her strapped to a chair, arms tied down like a blood draw. They made the arrest quickly, and he’d freed her shaking hands. A lot happened that followed, their statements, him taking her to the hospital, the hearing. But there was nothing that could make him forget the fear in her eye when she fell into his arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” Present-Day Scully waved a hand in his face. “You okay?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stiffly, he nodded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I made a couple calls, and it looks like they closed shortly after the doctor’s arrest. He’s still in custody, but when I checked about the original file we signed off on, they said it had been sealed, and I didn’t have clearance anymore.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked at her, surprised. “But that was our file, our case.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded. “Someone’s hiding something. My partner’s meeting with Kersh tomorrow about a case she’d worked alone. I’ll try and see what’s going on during that time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you sure about going back there? After all that had happened- I mean, if Melissa was connected to them, then that could mean…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded. “I know. But we have to find out.” She took the photograph back, and stared at it again. “This girl could be in danger, she could need us. Not to mention that other little girl back there.” She pointed to Emily’s room. "We have to get to the bottom of it. Whatever it takes.” </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last Visiting Day Melissa had ever come to happened on her birthday, only she didn’t know it. Usually, the visits were annual, and very strict, but the last one, it felt different. The last one was only a couple months before Melissa got sick. </p><p>Like always, Melissa was brought through the front door, and Anne came running, jumping into her arms for a hug. She swung her around, and set her down, and asked her if she had gotten taller.</p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Three centimeters!” she replied, hopping up and down with excitement. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Melissa had frowned, and touched the top of her head. “Really? I would have said four.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>It made Anne laugh, but the caretaker, in all seriousness, quickly corrected her that it was indeed three. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>But three, four, it didn’t matter. Visiting Day meant nothing serious could happen. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne pulled Melissa into her bedroom, excited to show her some of her art, but once she saw they were alone, and the door was almost shut, Melissa pulled a small box from out of her coat, and showed it to her. “Can you hide this somewhere?” she asked. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She took it, fascinated. “What is it?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Melissa looked almost scared. “Hide it somewhere they won’t find it.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne did what she said. She always did what Melissa said. She scanned the room, thinking of the inspections they did, and quickly shoved it under her mattress. “They never check there.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Missy breathed, and smiled. “Good.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What is it?” she asked, quietly, eyeing the door. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She looked over her shoulder, before kneeling next to her. “Can you show me some of your art?” she asked. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne nodded, and clambered over the desk to the wall where it was hanging. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“This is my picture of an elephant,” she said, loudly. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It was a Magic Box,” Melissa said, trying not to make her scared. “It’s a present for your birthday.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“My birthday?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Missy smiled. “It’s the day you were born, and we celebrate it every year.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I don’t do that.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She could be stubborn and smart with Melissa, and she liked it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Well, I do.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Because Melissa would always be stubborn and smart right back. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Why do I need a Magic Box?” she asked, quietly. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It’s only for emergencies. You know what those are?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It’s only for when I really, <em>really</em> need it?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Melissa nodded. “And no sooner. You have to keep it hidden until then, and don’t open it.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne stared at her, before slowly saying: “Okay.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What’s this in the picture with the elephant?” she asked, loud enough for the others to hear. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She didn’t respond right away, still confused and a little scared about it. Melissa seemed more worried than usual. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Anne, honey.” She poked her stomach, and she snapped out of it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It’s a tiger,” she said. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I like how you used the orange in it. It reminds me of my sister’s hair.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Dana?” Anne asked, suddenly feeling more normal again. “Do you have a funny Dana story?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Melissa smiled, and took her hand. “I have a funny Dana story, <em>and</em> I have another funny story about a man named Fox. Which do you want first?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne pursed her lips. “Dana.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Okay,” she said, setting the tone. "Have I told you yet about Dana and the time she brought her bunny to school in her backpack?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She giggled, and shook her head.</p>
    <p>“Well, how about we go out for our tea and I tell you?” </p>
    <p> </p>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Just the memory of that last day made her want to cry. Anne could barely focus during her lessons, and they let her go to sleep early. It grew dark outside. The teacher’s headlights grew dimmer after getting through the gate. The hallway light under her door shut off, and things began to settle. Once she was absolutely certain the coast was clear, Anne slipped out of bed, and knelt on the floor next to it. She fumbled beneath her mattress and pulled out the Magic Box. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>When they brought her to this place, they’d told her it was because she was extra-smart and extra-special. But she was starting to realize so were lots of people. So was Melissa. So was Dana. And they weren’t here. But more than anything, she was scared. The kind of scared that made her heart go funny, and made her want to cry. She wanted to go home, but she couldn’t remember where that was. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>And if there was ever a time that was an emergency, it had to be this. For several minutes, she listened to the house, just waiting for someone to find her like this and punish her for having it. But they never came. And so, as slowly and quietly as she could, Anne began opening the magic box.   </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>- - -</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Their rough game plan would rely on Scully’s findings the next day. But they felt wary to assume it would go smoothly, and they didn’t want to imagine anything further. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They were both anxious, the kind that didn’t need to be spoken. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I stay here tonight?” Scully asked, in a small, uncertain voice. “Knowing how deep this runs, and how they probably know my apartment-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course.” He was eternally grateful to have gotten a smile in return from her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll take the couch,” she offered. “I have a suit for tomorrow in my car, I’ll run down and get it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay,” he said. “Where are you parked?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Just on the street.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, and opened the curtains to assure her that he’d watch from the window that she was okay. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she returned, bag on her shoulder, she found him setting up a small air mattress below the couch. “What are you doing?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced up from the hand pump. “Setting this up.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I told you, I could take the couch-“ It dawned on her what that offer must have meant. “You’re not still sleeping on a couch, are you? Mulder, you’re thirty-five years old! You have a bedroom and a therapy practice-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He chuckled. “I'm fine. I hadn’t been, until Emily came along. This is just a one bedroom.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully looked surprised. “Only one?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, focused on plugging the mattress before all his work went to waste. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you’ve been sleeping out here so she can sleep in there?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. I wasn’t sure how long this was going to last, but I wanted her to be comfortable and feel safe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully smiled in a way he hadn’t seen in years. There was nothing heavy or negative behind it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” he demanded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Nothing.” She shook her head. “You just never cease to surprise me, Mulder.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gave her a smile back, and started putting fresh sheets on both the couch and the mattress. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Bathroom?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Through there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She returned to the living room, finding the lights dimmed, and Mulder curled up on the leaky air mattress. She climbed over the back of the couch, not wanting to disturb him, and tucked herself into the blankets. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” she asked, quietly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmhmm?” He rolled over, the air mattress sending out an unholy-sounding groan as he shifted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry my mother said those things to you. It wasn’t your fault, what happened.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I shouldn’t have left her alone, I should have known that call was a decoy-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head. “A lot has happened with us, but that wasn’t part of it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You needed me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I did.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And I wasn’t there.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No you weren’t. But you were there for her, and you tried your best for me, before my mother drove you away. That counts for something.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sorry you were on your own for so long.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She didn’t know how to respond to him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was too dark to see his face, but he took a chance, and reached up to take her hand. She laced his fingers with hers, and brought it to tuck under her chin. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you for being here now,” she whispered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He squeezed her hand three times, and she remembered when she was little and her mother would do that to mean “I Love You”. For a moment, she flashed back to the night of his hearing, when they were in a similar position as they were now- her on the couch, him on the floor. Not knowing for sure what he meant, but knowing what she had wanted to say back then, she squeezed his hand three times back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the morning, she woke up to their hands still intertwined, and Mulder lying at a truly uncomfortable position. Slowly, she relinquished it, rolling his sleeping form so it was more comfortable. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No, it didn’t fix everything. But for the first time in ages, it seemed like it could be fixed at all. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully laid in her little couch-bed, watching him sleep and the early morning light creep across his face, for as long as she could. She felt settled, despite everything else she was going to have to deal with in the days to come. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Just as she was starting to worry once again about the rest of the day and her plans, a patter of little footsteps grew louder behind her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled over quickly, wanting to stop a disaster from beginning. Emily was running with unparalleled energy towards Mulder, and like her training at the Academy had prepared her for, Scully vaulted over the couch, and stopped her in her tracks. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” she whispered. “Mulder’s still asleep.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyebrows crinkled. “Why are you still here? Did you have a sleepover?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully smiled, forgetting how cute she could be. “Yeah, sort of. You hungry? We can make breakfast.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily’s eyes lit up. “Yes!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took Scully’s hand without asking and dragged her to the kitchen. Mulder’s fridge was a mess of bonus chicken nuggets and orange juice containers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you normally have for breakfast?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily looked at her feet, one with a wrinkled sock just barely clinging on, one bare. “Cookies.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully raised an eyebrow. “What do you really have?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Cereal. Or eggs. One time, lasagna because Mulder forgot to go to the store.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She bit back a laugh, and pulled some eggs out of the fridge. “You like them scrambled?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She located a pan, and began preparing them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why did you sleep here?” Emily asked. “Is Mulder your boyfriend?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully froze, and glanced down at the curious little kid now staring intently like she could read her mind. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, he’s not. I was just really tired and I didn’t want to drive back to my house.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily squinted at her, like she didn’t quite believe her. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Can I have a muffin?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She prayed that would be the end of the questioning, and slowly nodded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>With Emily occupied by her muffin at the table, and Mulder still sleeping, she focused on the eggs. Just as she was serving them up for Emily, the phone rang in a loud trill. She dropped the pan back on the stove and made a break for it, but Mulder beat her there. Groggily, he reached up, and pulled it off the sofa end table, and answered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hello?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She returned to the food, only to see him bolt upright with the phone to his ear. “Hello? Who is this?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled it back, and even across the room she could hear the line go dead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What happened?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He ignored her for a moment to redial, only to shake his head with disappointment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was the same call I got the other night, when I left your place.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyebrows furrowed. “Did you figure out who it was?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pursed his lips and shook his head again. “It almost sounded like… I almost thought it was Melissa. Both times.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stilled, as he continued: “But I know it’s not possible.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, and turned back to set the pan in the sink to soak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What did she say?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder glanced at Emily, who was watching their conversation with rapt fascination. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, sweetie, could you go find your favorite stuffed animal to show Dana?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily nodded, and ran back into the bedroom. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He quickly rolled off the air mattress and got up. “She doesn’t have a favorite, we have like five minutes for her to decide she’ll show you all of them instead.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully smiled. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But, she said that someone needed my help. ‘She’, as she put it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Both times?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you think she was talking about Anne? Or Emily?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t know. But I do think it’s crucial to grab those files today. Melissa’s, Emily’s, and the MFC one.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll do my best. I’ll probably head in early and see what I can grab. I think we need to figure this out fast, and the more I hang around that building, the harder it may be.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is anyone going to think it’s weird that you’re gone so much?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stared out into space for a moment, reliving how hard the last month had been, and how many personal days she had taken. “No. A lot… a lot’s happened lately, and it’s pretty common knowledge that I’m in and out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glanced up, and gave Mulder a look he hopefully would understand meant not to probe further. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t think I’m going to breeze over you just automatically accepting the phantom phone calls thing.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shrugged. "I told you, Mulder. A lot’s happened.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He grabbed a piece of egg off Emily’s plate, and ate it dry, by hand. “Not bad.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, you can’t just eat those-“ she smacked his hand away. “They’re for Emily. Which, now that I’m thinking about it. Here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She handed him the plate, and pointed to the table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was just finishing wiping down the counter when Mulder nearly tripped over Emily who came barreling out with arms full of stuffed animals. “I couldn’t choose,” she said, out of breath. “The elephant’s name is Doug, and the tiger is Bianca…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She continued rattling them off, and Scully knelt on the floor listening to her, catching Mulder smiling out of the corner of her eye. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Em, why don’t you eat your eggs, okay?” he said, ruffling the top of her hair. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed, and stood up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you sleep okay?” Mulder asked, once they’d taken a step into the kitchen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” she said. “Which tells me you haven’t been either.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He couldn’t even pretend anymore. “I will,” he promised. “Just as soon as we figure out this situation.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled her eyes. “I’ll do my best to speed up the process.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My back thanks you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She patted him on the shoulder, and grabbed her bag off a chair. “I’m gonna start getting ready.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You eaten yet?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I’ll grab something on the way in,” she called from down the hall. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He sighed, and put a bagel in the toaster for her anyway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is she your girlfriend?” Emily asked, thumb on her chin like she was an old scholar. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His attention snapped to her. “What?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is she your-” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s not what she said.” Emily watched his reaction closely. “I think she is.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He narrowed his eyes, matching her expression. “I think… that you’re just trying to get the answer you want. And no, she’s not. We’re friends. Sort of.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily huffed, and returned to her food, missing Mulder glancing, for a beat too long, down the hall at the cracked bathroom door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The morning came again, the sun rising early over the stark and dry desert. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Normally, Anne would be woken by a sharp, beeping alarm, and would roll out of bed quickly to comply. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But this morning, the alarm never came, and it was a hand on her shoulder that woke her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Get dressed, it’s time for your lesson,” the caretaker said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne rubbed her eye. “Why wasn’t there an alarm?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s broken,” she said, without turning around. “It will be fixed today.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She left Anne to get dressed, taking one last quick glance around the room. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She closed the door behind her and went into the kitchen. The computer took a long time to boot up, but she had plenty of distractions for Anne while it did. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The inbox loaded, with it, the message she’d received last night. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stared at it for several minutes, wondering how to respond. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>You were right, M. Scully did give her a package</em>,” she wrote. “<em>However, whatever it contained, it does not seem to be an urgent threat. Patient_1 is still here, and has made no move to escape. We have time for extraction. I would recommend we wait so as not to startle her</em>.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hit send, just as the patter of Anne’s footsteps got louder, and she appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Is everything okay?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The caretaker nodded, putting on a fake smile. “Everything’s fine. Let’s get you some breakfast.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you all so much for commenting/following this story! only a few chapters left, and they should be up pretty regularly until the end!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scully arrived to work early, only one thing on her mind. The files. She had to get the files back and search them for any irregularity. The one Mulder had been dismissed for, and the one her sister had died for. Emily’s was still locked in her safe, and she’d grab it before she went back to Mulder’s. </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>The Hoover Building was empty that early in the morning, with its few inhabitants making coffee or sleepily finishing out a late night shift. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She made her way to the basement, half-expecting to find Alice Murphy there. She was practically living in their office these days, eager as a new trainee to do her job. But it was vacant, the way she’d left it the evening before. It seemed like a lifetime ago, that she’d been there. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She quickly made her way to the file cabinet, starting to pull out what she could. Melissa’s was always fairly empty, as furious as that always made her. The fertility clinic was larger, but when she opened the drawer, she found the space empty. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She went over it again, carefully, and there was still nothing. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She checked the other sections it might have been filed under. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Shit,” she muttered, slamming the drawer shut. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Something wrong, Agent Scully?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She turned and found Murphy standing in the doorway. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was just looking for a file,” she said, not meeting her eye. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I help you?” She set her bag down on her desk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully quietly slipped Melissa’s file into her briefcase. “No, it’s fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Really, I’m happy to. I did some reorganizing when you were out sick a little while ago.” Her voice was even and strained, and she moved towards the filing cabinets without being asked. “What file are you looking for?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully rubbed the back of her neck nervously, wondering if she should even say it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It was under MFC. They were a fertility clinic that was a cover for some illegal human testing. We busted a doctor three years ago.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy froze for a moment, before nodding. “That was the one Agent Mulder was dismissed for, right?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully took a breath. “Yeah. It was.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She slid the drawers closed, and turned to her, a somber look on her face to rival Susanna Cody’s, when she busted her for drinking at prom. “I’m afraid we don’t have access to that case anymore.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you mean we don’t? That was our case.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Some higher-ups deemed it sensitive, and they reduced out access. If you want to see it, you would have to get authorization from an Assistant Director, but I would recommend you don’t bother Kersh about this. You’re on thin ice with him right now, and I’d hate to see you replaced.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully took a moment, bit her tongue, then nodded. “Well, alright. What are you in so early for, anyway?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“An officer contacted me last night about the disappearing parents’ case out in Baltimore.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart lurched. “What about it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He had been off the case for a while, and was under the impression that we still had authority over it. He wanted to hand over the note the mother had left for the little girl, and I told him that I would get it to the proper authority. I have a meeting about it with the lead detective later today, I’ll get it over there then, so you don’t have to worry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully forced a smile. “Well, thank you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The phone rang, and Murphy answered, said a couple “yes’s”, and hung up. “I have that meeting about the case you asked off of, I have to go.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully watched her leave, listened to her heels click and the elevator doors ding. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And quickly, she moved over to Murphy’s bag. It had been locked shut, so Scully grabbed a paperclip off the desk and started jimmying it open. Somehow, it worked, and she deftly went through it. Nothing stuck out with a red, pointy arrow; just the expected paperwork, and a BLT for lunch, but at the bottom, carefully folded in an evidence bag, she hit the jackpot. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She quickly pulled it out, and shoved it into her own bag, before making a break for the door. From the parking garage, she left a voicemail on the office phone, stating that she had another doctor’s appointment and she didn’t know how long it would take. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Carefully scanning the area, she noted no cameras in sight, and opened her briefcase to retrieve the paper. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scanned it, looking, at a glance, for anything peculiar that stood out, knowing she wouldn’t have time to read it fully. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily’s mother had addressed it to Mulder, stating that she’d reached out to him not because of his background in child psychology, but because of his background in the paranormal and the unexplained. Scully knew she wouldn’t be able to read the rest, internalize it, but a few paragraphs down, something caught her eye. <em>MFC. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She mentioned it twice, and it was all Scully could do to not drop everything and read this letter in full. She shoved it in her bag, and locked the top. Whatever this case was, it was more connected than she had realized. And she knew she had to get to Mulder and Emily to regroup before anything else happened.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ten after ten, the teacher found her. She didn’t know his name, he didn’t know hers. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is something the matter?” the caretaker asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anne is taking her comprehension exam right now.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She studied him, confused. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was asked to speak to you. The overseers are concerned with her information retention. They think she’s becoming distracted, anxious, preoccupied.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s just a child, surely she’ll slip from time to time.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But she hasn’t before. Not since we’ve studied her. They believe it’s a result of Ms. Scully’s lack of presence.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She ground her teeth. “Well, what would you like me to do? Have them un-shoot her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The teacher glared at her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They think we need to sever her from that world. Whatever that package contained, it was merely a sign of this not working. They think we should transfer her to a new secure facility, one that has no connection to her past.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glanced at Anne through the small glass window. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Do you have a problem with that?” the teacher asked, accusatorially. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, of course not. How long until the transfer will occur?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shrugged. “It will take some time to prepare, so likely about a week. We need to act fast, but do it right. They may use the facility designated for Patient_2, had they been able to get to her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where is she now?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s still… unreachable, but our monitors are keeping a close eye and will alert us when the capture is possible. The man she’s with is well-known, and knows how to evade us. It’s imperative that we’re able to keep Patient_1 safe for the time being.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded. “I’ll begin making arrangements.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Try to get that package away from her as well. I’ll have her occupied for the rest of the afternoon.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He gave a curt nod, and left her to process what he’d said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She watched him return to Anne, and take her test from her. They began to sit down and go over what she’d written, but not before she got a pointed look through the glass. She did as she was told, and went into Anne’s bedroom. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The surveillance camera outside her room the other night had caught her get up. It caught her take the box from under her bed, study the contents out of frame for several minutes, then return it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Carefully, making sure she didn’t move anything out of place that would alert Anne that something was wrong, she picked up the mattress, and slid her hand under it. The object was long and thin, like the tape had shown, but when she managed to blindly free it from it’s stuck position, what she pulled out was in fact Anne’s wooden pencil case, not the box. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Stuck to it was a note that said “colder”, like the hide-and-seek game Anne and Melissa used to play in the compound. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” she mumbled, and shoved it back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She stood up, and glanced around the room. Nothing else seemed out of place.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When she returned to the computer, she reviewed the previous night’s footage, and the footage from the night before that, once again. Nothing out of ordinary. She had slept through last night. And the night before, she’d gotten up, looked at the box, and returned it. There was nothing else. She hadn’t gotten up, she hadn’t moved her mattress out of place, there was nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She walked back into Anne’s room, glancing around one more time. Surely there had to be something off. She patted down the pillows. She opened the chest of drawers. Nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Defeated, and terrified of what her bosses would say, she sighed, and looked around one more time. A picture was taped on the wall above her bed. The one of the smiling elephant and tiger. Once, it might have been cute. But now, they were both grinning at her like it was some joke. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Initially, she’d been against the move, not wanting it to affect Anne in a negative way. But now she was actually glad. She was becoming too clever for her own good. And angrily, she reached up and tore the picture off the wall, and returned back to the kitchen. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully stopped briefly at her apartment to grab a few essentials and the Cutler file, before returning to Mulder’s apartment. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily let her in, and abandoned her due to lack of interest in the open-door, entryway. She quietly closed the door and shrugged off her coat, taking a turn around the room to close all the blinds. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Mulder said, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s alright.” She started setting up shop on the still-made couch bed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re back soon,” he said, sitting down next to her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"I couldn’t access our old file, but I got the other two.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His expression changed to confusion. “What do you mean?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It got sealed, and I no longer have authorization.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can you ask Skinner to authorize it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She paused, remembering how little of each other’s lives they knew. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Skinner’s not my AD, anymore. A man named Alvin Kersh is, and he’s not looking to do me any favors.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you could ask Skinner…” his voice faded when he saw her shake her head. “What happened?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Skinner took a leave of absence about six months ago. No one really knows why, but we don’t see much of him except when he drops by every few months to assure us he’s alive and well.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder sat down hard. “That doesn’t sound like him,” he mumbled. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know. I tried to ask him about it once, but he played it off like it was some kind of marital problem, but I don’t buy it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head with disbelief. “Is there anyone else you can ask to access it? The Gunmen, maybe?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She sighed. “I don’t see much of them anymore. An ex-partner of mine double-crossed me a few years ago, and ever since, they’ve been wary to talk to me in case it happens again. I see them about as often as Skinner, and I doubt they could help even if they wanted to. But look what I found.” She took Emily’s mother’s note from her bag and unfolded it for him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He scanned it, up and down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Dear Mr. Mulder, I’m sorry to have to do this, but it’s what is safest for Emily. She has gotten to the age that they take them, and I can no longer take care of her. I can’t say much, in case the surveillance runs deeper than I had thought, and they take this note as well. I tried to cover her father’s, and my tracks. Please look after her carefully. Please keep her away from Minerva Fertility Consults, they will do whatever they can to seize her. MFC is responsible for her birth, but I had not known what they were capable of, and I can’t help her anymore. You won’t be able to find me again. Do not trust anyone. Keep her safe, please. Nora Cutler.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” he mumbled, and handed it back to her. “We need that file back.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know. I think Skinner’s our best bet, but I would have to track down his address. It could take a while. It probably would be faster to call his last listed number, but I don’t want to risk that.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” he said, standing up. “This is something we need to do in person. If they really are watching us, we can’t risk the phone lines being compromised.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Agreed. In the meantime, though, we can’t let Emily out of our sight. No more babysitting, no matter how much you trust her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I’ll take some time off as well, and make sure to stay with her.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can help out as well,” she offered, quickly adding: “I just… if you needed it at all. I’m likely not going to be spending much time around the office. It worries me how comfortable my partner has become reporting us to our superiors, and going behind my back. I’d rather keep her out of it as long as possible, so we won’t have anything in the way.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That sounds good.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, already walking to the other room to check on her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mulder?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Mmm?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You like being back as a detective, just a little bit, don’t you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He forced himself to keep from smiling. “I’m incredibly happy in my life right now,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He started walking towards Emily’s room, but turned back one more time. “Okay, fine. A little.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She picked up her cell phone and started dialing the switchboard at the Bureau.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They had her on hold for too long, but she didn’t mind. For the first time in ages, she felt settled. There wasn’t anywhere she needed to rush to, nothing big and scary she had to figure out. She had a partner back, she had another voice in decisions. She had a warm apartment to find shelter in, one that wasn’t haunted by the ghost of her failures. She had a couch beneath her, and Mulder’s warm flannel sheets keeping her safe. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Agent Scully?” the operator asked. “You alright?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Despite everything, she smiled. “Yes. I’m fine.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you all so much for reading and commenting!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne returned from her lessons for the day, to find her room slightly different than she’d left it, and the picture of the elephant and the tiger gone. </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>A rage filled her blood, and she stormed out into the kitchen, finding her caretaker passively stirring dinner on the stove. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Where is it?” she screamed, making the caretaker look up in shock. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What is this? You can’t be screaming.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“I need my picture, where did it go?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Anne, you can’t concern yourself with little things like that. And you definitely shouldn’t be so angry over it.” She tsked, making Anne even angrier. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She pointed her finger at her. “You took it, give it back.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>The caretaker slapped her hand away. “This attitude will not be tolerated. Go to bed now. You won’t be having dinner tonight, and I will let you know in the morning what other punishments there are.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Anne stormed away, screaming: “I hate it here!” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“Well, it’s good you won’t have to be here much longer.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She stopped in her tracks, hand frozen about to slam her bedroom door closed. She had no idea what that comment meant, but she knew better than to go back out and confront her about it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She shut the door, hard enough to get satisfaction not punishment, and fell against it, crying. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She managed to pull herself into bed, and fall asleep hugging her pillow tightly. She awoke before the alarm went off in the morning, knowing one thing for sure. She had to escape before they took her away. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>- - -</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It took several calls, but Scully finally managed to track down AD Walter Skinner’s most current address. They waited until the middle of the night to go out, with Emily asleep in her carseat, and Mulder tapping his thumbs anxiously against the passenger door handle. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You alright?” she asked, softly, watching the city lights fade behind them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, you?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But neither was convincing enough. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She got off the highway, waiting in the car with Emily long enough for her to check the map directions and Mulder to run into a store and get them coffee. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You know where we are yet?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” she said, absently. “But it just doesn’t seem right. This area. Not for him.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A lot’s happened,” he said, and she sighed and folded the map back up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A lot’s happened.” She shifted into gear, making Emily stir behind them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She okay?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder turned around, and touched her little foot. “Still conked out.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Good.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He turned back around and sighed. “I’m worried about Anne.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me too. But we don’t know for certain that she’s in danger.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He scoffed. “Somehow I don’t buy it’s that easy.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You’re sounding quite a lot like me, you know.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He smiled. “Appreciate the compliment.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She looked around at the mailboxes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are we looking for?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“371.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She slowed to a stop, getting the sticky note address Kim had told her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You sure this is the place?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was just as surprised as he was. “Yeah. It doesn’t seem like it…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They pulled into the driveway and parked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Skinner in the suburbs,” Mulder commented, leaning forward to get a look at the house. “Who knew?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiled, and glanced around at the picket fence and the plum tree out front. “I’m gonna… go in first,” she said. “This sees too…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Normal?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Strange. You guys leave if there’s any problems. I’ll call you in if it’s safe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, and unbuckled his seatbelt to slide into the drivers side after she got out. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Slowly, she approached the door. The little porch had a doggy gate, and thankfully it was unlocked. She ducked down to get a look inside through the window, but there was little she could see, when suddenly, the porch light flashed on, and she jumped several feet back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who’s there-“ Skinner boomed, marching out the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Me, sir,” she said, drawing his attention away from the car. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He squinted, lacking his glasses. “Agent Scully?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” he said. “Get inside, quickly. Before anyone sees you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rushed in behind him, and he slammed the door shut and locked it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did anyone come with you?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She hesitated, unsure of what to say. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did anyone-“ he yelled. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.” She glanced at the door. “Mulder did. He’s in the car.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I take it this isn’t a social call.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Skinner rubbed a hand over his jaw and chin. “Is this about the fertility clinic case?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, confused how he would know that. “Yes, we need that file-“ She was cut off by a stern shake of his head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t give it to you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You have it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glared at her. “There’s a reason why I’m not at the Bureau anymore, and it’s because of that file. And I don’t want them to do to you what they did to me.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who’s they, sir? What did they do?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He lumbered over to the blinds, and moved a panel up to see out. “They’ve forced me out… it runs deep, I never got a chance to see how. It was blackmail. After your sister… I tried to look into it, but whoever ran it started sending me letters. They were going to hurt my wife, my family, if I didn’t step away and seal those records…” his voice drifted off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who’s that in the backseat with Mulder?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her heart clenched in her throat. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No one.” She took a step towards the door, prepared to run. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is it one of the little girls?” He turned back to her, sincerity in his eye. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“One of?” she asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There were several. I only know of two they deemed successful. Some got sick, some were miscarried. But I never got close enough to see the extent of it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How long have you known about it? And what do you mean 'after my sister'?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head, and beckoned her with a hand, leading her through the kitchen into a small closet office. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I started getting these threats early on, around the time you and Mulder started working that case. Didn’t think much of it until your sister got killed- they mentioned her name in a threat, as an example…” his voice trailed off, and he looked at her with sympathy. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She swallowed a lump in her throat and nodded. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Based on a hunch, I started looking into her background, where she’d worked before. And I found this.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He pulled open a file cabinet, and handed her a news clipping. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Just a back-page article, but it said a lot. “Baby Left With Day-Care Worker.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She scanned the article, but there was nothing specific. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll fill in some gaps- it was your sister.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The day-care worker, it was your sister. Some two-year old got left there in 1991, and there was temporary custody given to your sister. She lived with her for several months, but I have no trace of what happened afterwards. I didn’t find out about the connection until your sister’s case, and by that point the MFC file was sealed and I couldn’t access it without raising alarms. I did some background checking on the daycare, though, and of the workers also worked for a fertility clinic in the area, one that, in late 1992, would relocate to the DC area following some bad press, under the name Minerva Fertility Consults.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully looked shocked, only for Skinner to hand her the large file. “It’s all I have on it. The list of MFC employees is all there, their locations. The list of victims that were taken, everything. I had a copy made of the sealed documents before I left.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took it gingerly, like it was worth everything in the world. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re just giving this to me? I thought you said…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shook his head, and led her back out to the foyer. “If you and Mulder already have custody of one of the kids, you’re in too deep anyway. You might as well have all the information.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you, sir.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced out the blinds again, and swallowed hard. “You better get out of here fast. You’ve already been here too long.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, and went for the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Be careful,” he warned. “There’s not much I can do to help you anymore.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, seeing the concern in his eye, and held the file tighter as she walked out the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They were safely in a throng of cars, headed towards the city, and certain they hadn’t been followed, when either finally got up the guts to speak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What did he say?” Mulder asked, softly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She held the file tight in her lap, glad he was driving so she didn’t have to let it go. “He cleared up some stuff.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is that our file?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was hitting her all over again. Her sister. What unknown reason she’d died for, and how no explanation could bring her back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said you talked to Melissa the night she died, and she said some things about her life before she came back. What were they?” she rolled her head to look at him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She… she said she was studying to be a nurse or a teacher or something. And she was working in a daycare, and… I don’t remember. Something about her coworker working at a clinic. And there was a preschooler who was brought in. I don’t know. She didn’t get to say a lot because… well, you know because…” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She flipped open the file, and rifled through the contents until she found the list.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What did you say the coworkers name was?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He winced, trying to remember. “Elaine? No, Eileen. Yeah, she said Eileen. What is that?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s the list of employees at MFC, before and after the move.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Move?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, they had a base in California, near where Melissa lived, and in ’92, they moved to…” her voice drifted off. Her finger, which had been tracing down the page, stalled on one name in particular. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” Mulder asked, glancing back and forth from the road to her. “Did you find that name Eileen?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She shook her head, still staring at it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Scully?” He started to slow down, ready to pull over somewhere, but she motioned for him to keep going. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, don’t stop,” she said absently. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She broke her stare to look at the road, and then turned back, as if checking to make sure she was seeing correctly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There’s a name on both employee lists, before and after.” She shook her head in disbelief, and turned to look at him. “My partner. Alice Murphy.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for bearing with me during this hiatus. The final two chapters are already written, so they’ll be up shortly (for real this time!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They nearly broke down her door. </p><p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>Scully couldn’t believe it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She couldn’t <em>freaking</em> believe it. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Alice Murphy lived a stone’s throw away from Melissa’s apartment this whole time, and she never put it together? She never noticed it on her personnel file? She never once drove her home? And it burned deep. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d watched her this whole time. She must have. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“How long?” she screamed, as Murphy jumped startled from her kitchen table. Mulder waited in the hall with Emily, having nowhere better. “How long were you following me? How long were you following my sister?” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“What? Agent Scully-“ </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“No, don’t Agent Scully me.You knew Melissa, you knew me before we even met. You’re on this list. Now, I want you to sit down. I want you to shut up. I want you to tell me everything, and so help me Murphy if you so much as lie to me…” she shook her head, no threat seeming like enough. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Murphy glared at her, before sitting down. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Years,” she said. “I’d been following Anne since she was born. And then Melissa, when she found her in 1991.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully slowly sat down in a chair, and motioned to Mulder to come in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You brought her here?” Murphy said, incredulously. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully leaned forward, her gaze intensifying. “I swear to god, Murphy, you better not tell anyone.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I won’t…” she said. “But you shouldn’t have.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Get back to Melissa and Anne.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fine.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who’s Anne? Where did she come from? What was her connection to Melissa?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s a little girl born in San Diego in 1989. Her mother had sought treatment at the fertility clinic, and because she requested an anonymous donor, we had… an open door, to attempt a new batch of tests.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You thought you could just create kids for some kind of test?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It wasn’t much of a test. Just a careful selection of genes. If we were successful, her mother would have thanked us.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s sick.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy rubbed her eyes. “I’m not going to debate you on this. I just put in my resignation.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She carefully watched Emily, nervous in Mulder’s arms. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What they were asking me to do… it was too much. For the longest time I was just the middleman between Anne and your sister. I’d anonymously drop notes off to Melissa, and bring them to Anne’s location. But this task was too much.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They wanted you to take Emily?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy nodded. “There’s something else you want to ask me though.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There is.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, ask it. Don’t waste time on the one that’s safe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder walked Emily away from them, giving them space. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where is Anne now?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Utah, out in the desert. I can get you the coordinates and a map, it’s a bit beyond a letterbox address.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why is she there? Who took her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy got up and started pulling notebooks off shelves and out of chests. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re part of that Fertility Clinic you busted- I think they were called Minerva or something when you heard about them. They focus on learning development and such. Basically just want to create a superbrain, and they’ll isolate a kid in a desert compound to do it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t know the full name. But there are branches all over the place. I know the information is stored at that house, on hard drives, but it would be an extra risk if you’re just trying to get Anne to safety. They’d do anything to her, to keep you from getting it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully shook her head. “What did they do to my sister to take her?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They bribed Anne’s biological father, the same way I’m guessing they did Emily’s dad. I mean, these people can do anything. They can change faces, they can hack any database. If you want it, and you have something they need, they’ll make that exchange. And since he was able to pass a DNA test, he could get custody, hand her over, and collect any prize.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You think they did that to Emily’s parents?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think they either did that, or threatened them with much worse. But either way, they’re not coming back. Emily’s safe with well-known people like you and Mulder. You have government connections, you’ve given lectures. Here we go.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She started drawing on a map, and looking back and forth in one of the notebooks. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What exactly are we walking into?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy made a few marks in red on the map. “These are blind spots in the security. They’re small, but one of you could get through. Once you get over the wall, this is Anne’s bedroom window. If you go at night, she’ll be there, but you’ll have to get her attention without touching the windows. They make a loud alarm sound if anyone touches them.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How long would we have?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A matter of minutes. You’d have to be fast. They’re wanting to move her to another facility, one that I’ve never heard of, so you’ll have to be quick. They’re really protective of her, especially when they’re about to move.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is there anything else I should know?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Murphy shook her head. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Still fuming, but calm, Scully ripped the map off the table, and motioned for Mulder to leave. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If we get a flight out as soon as possible, we can get to her by tonight.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Agent Scully?” She was almost out the door, when Murphy spoke up again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m… uh.. I’m sorry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully stared at her with narrow eyes, seeing genuine remorse in them. And she turned away without speaking, taking Mulder by the arm, and leading them away. </p>
  <p> </p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p> </p>
  <p>Anne’s lessons were short that day, giving her an hour before dinner to stomp circles in her room. Something was off, she just didn’t know what. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She eventually bored, and marched out to the kitchen to question the caretaker.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why were they shorter?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why was what shorter?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My lessons. They’re never this short.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s just how it is.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne shook her head. “No, something’s going on. What is it?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The caretaker sighed. “We’re moving you in a few days. Your teacher had some other matters to attend to, so it was short.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Moving?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“They’re transferring you to another house. Don’t worry, it’ll be just like this one. Just in the mountains, not the desert.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was suddenly wracked with panic. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Go back to your room and read or something. Just relax, you’ll enjoy the move when you really think about it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne swallowed hard, and tried to nod in agreement, but stumbling back into her room was all she could do to not collapse and scream. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She needed to get out of here. That’s what she figured. She had to get out, and run. Didn’t matter where or how far. Just as long as they couldn’t find her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She ate dinner, mulling it over, and returned to bed, knowing for certain that it had to happen. And soon. Tonight, soon. Just in case they updated their schedule. She couldn’t take any chances. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Making sure the cameras didn’t see her movement, she got out of bed, crawled under, and found the loose baseboard she’d hidden the Magic Box behind when they’d thought she was asleep. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She crawled out, and opened it, finding once again, everything that she’d need. The screwdriver and wire cutters for the window, the three pairs of socks to soften her step. She’d never been allowed shoes before, just light slippers, and now she realized it was so she couldn’t run. There was a set of coordinates and a compass like the one she’d used in math problems. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And at the bottom, the phone. Melissa’s note told her to just hit ‘one’ and it would call her, ’two’ and it would call Dana. But only do it when she was outside the fence. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her finger ghosted over the ‘two’ button, but she restrained herself, knowing it was only a matter of time before she could press it for real. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But before she could put on the socks, or prepare for her escape at all, a loud pounding sound made her nearly jump three feet in the air.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>ty all for reading and commenting! the final part/epilogue will be out soon :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>They got the first flight out. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>Emily came with them, not seeming to understand the situation, but excited to be a part of something. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d offered initially to go alone, have Mulder stay with Emily in DC, but he’d refused immediately. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“No, we’re not splitting up again.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“But… with going over state lines, and the danger it causes.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>“It causes more danger to leave her alone, and to split us up. We got your back.” </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>She’d been glad for the extra help, but as they drew nearer and nearer in the desert, and the sky got darker and darker, she couldn’t help but worry more about Anne, and about Emily. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p>- - -</p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The house was far more heavily guarded than either was expecting. This unremarkable girl didn’t need this much containing. But they had it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The desert’s rolling hills surrounded the house like a bowl, and in the darkness of night, Mulder turned off the headlights, switched into neutral, and let them roll the last few hundred meters down. When it flattened out, they were close enough to the gate for him to walk. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be quick,” Scully whispered, unbuckling her seatbelt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re not going.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Even in the darkness, he could see her confused face. “But-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m going. It’s fine. I’ve gotten you into enough. I’d prefer you stay here with Emily, make sure she’s safe. If anything goes wrong, you get her out of here.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re her dad,“ Scully hissed. “You need to make sure she’s safe.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know she’ll be safe with you. And I’m your partner, so I want to make sure you’re safe too.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He lightly unbuckled his seatbelt, glancing back to see the shape of Emily’s head lulled to the side. “You’re the only one I’d trust with her. Let me do this.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He felt Scully’s hand fumble for his, and squeeze tightly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Without another word, he got out of the car, lightly shutting the door, and began to approach the gate. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The blindspot was exactly where Murphy said it would be. He crept around the edge at a distance, and climbed over it when he found it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The compound was scenic, with trees and bushes littering it like a garden. He had enough cover to get by, sneaking to the second window from the right. Once there, he slowly rose to peak through the window. Inside, he saw the edge of a bed, a closed door, a dresser, a nightlight… and then, her. Anne. As real as he’d imagined. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before her, on the floor sat an opened box, and a bunch of tools. He could see her mouthing the words to a note she was reading, sounding out the letters. He knew not to knock on the window, but wasn’t sure what else to do. He used the edge of his shirt to bat the side of the house, and when he was sure there wasn’t an alarm connected there, he knocked, startling her inside. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He raised his hand to wave, but her eyes bugged out, and she clambered over to the window, bringing everything with her. She mouthed in exaggerated motions: “Don’t. Touch. It.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nodded, and watched as she squinted at the note again, then bit her lip out of nerves, and jammed the screwdriver between the two window panels and twisted. They popped open, and she did the same for the window screen. It fell out with a clatter, but Mulder managed to catch it before it hit the ground. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey Anne,” he said, unsure of how to begin. “My name is Fox, and I’m a friend of Melissa’s.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her eyes immediately bulged, and she fought back a smile, still nervous seeing him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She mentioned you. And she said to call someone if I needed to leave.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah, I think she meant her sister Dana-“ Anne started to smile, clearly recognizing the name. “She’s waiting for us in the car, can you come with us?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She nodded, nervously. “Are you sure they won’t find us?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sure. Dana’s really smart and really strong, she can make sure of it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne nodded, but started backing up away from him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anne?” he asked. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you touch the windowsill, the alarm will go off. I’ll jump.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She paused, and handed him a few items, before sitting down to put on some socks. Three pairs, one of the other. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Anne, we need to get going fast-“ </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Melissa told me to do this,” she said, angrily. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He glanced around nervously. “Alright. Just hurry.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She popped back up, and took a few steps back, like a long-jumper planning their steps. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She took a running start, and leapt through the window, at the last second, her foot grazing the edge of it. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An alarm started blaring, and a cold chill shot through them both. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Come on,” he said, grabbing her hand. “We have to go.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They started running, leaping around bushes and trees in the dark. She started to slow down beside him, and seamlessly, he picked her up and kept going. When they reached the fence, he pushed her over, hissing to her that the car was just around the corner, and off into the distance. Run, he told her, hearing guards behind him, and took a few steps back to get momentum over the wall. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>- - -</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the car, Scully was sitting with Emily, nervously bouncing her leg as she watched the dark house. It shouldn’t have taken this long, right? Something must have gone wrong. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She was just about to climb into the drivers seat, preparing to get Emily out of there, when an alarm started blaring, making her jump. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fuck,” she mumbled, pushing her head into the ceiling trying to get a better angle. In the distance, she could see a tiny figure climbing over the wall, and start running, and she could see Mulder’s hands trying to pull himself over afterwards. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She quickly opened the car door, waving to the panicked little girl sprinting for her, and directed her to her side. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne didn’t slow down until she was in the car, hurtling herself in and onto her lap, entire body shaking, and panting. Scully steadied her, feeling her heartbeat pounding so hard it shook her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne finally caught her surroundings, and glanced up at her with big eyes. “You’re Dana?” she asked. “Missy’s sister?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She smiled proudly, and held her a little tighter. “Yeah, I am.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She turned her attention back to Mulder, who’d made it over the fence and started running for it. The lights around the perimeter were now on, and in the distance, she could see the gate being opened. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Climb back there,” she said, nudging Anne over the seat, and climbing into the drivers seat herself. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Mulder, as if knowing what she’d done, immediately ran to the passenger side, and jumped in, locking the door behind him. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Drive,” he panted, bucking in fast. “Seriously, Scully?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She fumbled for the lever, pulling the seat forward. “It’s not my fault you’re ten feet tall!” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was a reach, but they couldn’t wait anymore. She threw the car into drive, and sped out of there. In the back, she could hear Anne getting jostled around, but at least she was safe. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They sped up through the hills, away from the compound. There was a cloud of sand a mile long behind them, but she kept up the speed, knowing in all likelihood, they were still following. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Several miles ticked by, and they were meters away from the main road, when a darkened car turned on its lights, revealing it was blocking their path. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Shit,” she mumbled, looking around to see it was all boulders and sharp drops around them. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Who is that?” Mulder mumbled. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She strained her eyes to see, but inside the car, the two figures were silhouettes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Reluctantly, Scully started to slow down. Behind her, Anne began to hyperventilate, and beg her to speed up. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s alright,” Mulder said, reaching back to hold her hand. “We’ll be okay.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They got closer, and Scully scanned the area around, trying to see if there was any way to move around them. But like mind reading, the car started to back up, and move out of the way. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What-“ she started, just as soon as they got close enough to see who it was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She pulled up alongside the other car’s drivers side door, and rolled down the window. “You showed up?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Skinner smiled through tired eyes. “Yeah, of course.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In the passenger seat, Murphy gave a little wave, as well, but they weren’t so ready to forgive her. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll handle them,” Skinner said, nodding his head at the line of headlights that were trailing in the distance. “And we called for backup. Just get the kids out of here, and we’ll handle the rest.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Thank you,” Scully said, and rolled up the window. They kept moving, Mulder still reaching at an awkward angle to hold Anne’s hand. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In her rearview mirror, she could see Skinner moving the car back into position. In the distance, she could hear sirens wail, and that legion of cars slow to a stop. But she didn’t slow down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The night grew quieter, the longer they drove. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Anne fell asleep against Emily’s car seat, the hand holding Mulder’s went slack. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They reach a city, just large enough for them to disappear for a few hours, and find a motel. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He carried Anne upstairs, she carried Emily. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They tuck them into the same bed, and take a breath watching them so peaceful. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We did it,” she breathed. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Suddenly, the culmination of everything that had happened built up, and she crashed into his chest for a hug. “Thank you.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He tucked her head under his chin, and held her back. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dana?” Emily asked, over his shoulder. “Why are your cheeks pink?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Scully pushed back away from him, and looked at the ground. “Just… just a little warm. Go back to sleep sweetie.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Emily squinted at her a beat too long, but surprisingly flopped back onto the bed, and shut her eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I guess we have to make a plan,” he said. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah. I guess we do.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>